


The Tale of the Blue Panther and His Rabbit

by tamagin



Series: Medieval Anthology: Generation of Love and Lore [1]
Category: Kuroko no Basket
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Historical, Arranged Marriage, Dubious Consent, GoM mentions, M/M, Omegaverse, Slight Incest, Wakamatsu's OOC AF, arabian inspiration, heavily inspired by Game of Thrones' Dany and Drogo story, ish, mention of MuraHimu, not in the least bit accurate pls excuse me, they're stepbrothers but that's gross still
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2018-11-19 15:35:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 38,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11316381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tamagin/pseuds/tamagin
Summary: “Isn’t it great, Ryou, that your only pressure is to bear one lowly child from one desperate coupling?”In which Sakurai is a helpless omega trapped in a medieval world that's dominated by egotistical, psychopathic alphas. It's just his luck that he has to marry one. Enter Aomine Daiki, unstoppable king, alpha of the panthers, arrogance above all arrogance and intimidating beyond intimidating. How is Sakurai supposed to survive this union?Alpha/Omega/Beta Dynamics; inspired by Game of Thrones; the AU within an AU.





	1. it's only nature

**Author's Note:**

> Haha, and I said I was gonna go back and update the other shit I was already working on. But well, that's just how inspiration goes. Here ya go~
> 
> But on a more serious note, please know that the depicted abuse and dubcon within this fic is no indication that I am behind such ideas and condone it. It is purely meant to emphasize the tragedies of the time period and magnifying on the differences and leaps society has come to today. The relationship depicted will not be perfect, and in some cases it isn't healthy, but Sakurai and Aomine will come through and I love these boys too much to wreck anything about their original characters. So they'll love each other in the end. Kya. 
> 
> So now, I'll stop rambling and then maybe, just maybe, I'll update those other fics now. *sips tea*

Sakurai Ryou is a meek and timid omega. He’s obedient, docile, ever submissive-- the complete epitome and definition of his second gender. From age seven and up, he was vehemently taught that he could never infringe upon those of a higher rank than him, could not excel at anything beyond the very nature he was designed and raised for. His sole purpose is to bear the seed of future generations, to a ruler-- a conqueror, that would raise nations and swallow ones that could only hope to dream of a heavy crown drooping over their brow.

That’s why he was the perfect candidate.

“Isn’t it great, Ryou, that your only pressure is to bear one lowly child from one desperate coupling?” Hanamiya Makoto, his older step-brother, had sneered. 

He had been a mere child then hearing such words, barely above twelve, and Hanamiya barely even fourteen. He remembered that they’d both just gotten out of lectures and heading down to the dining hall, where Hanamiya had then decided to tug on Ryou’s arm to pin him against an adjacent alcove.

Ryou had ducked his head low, tugging at the sleek edges of his vest, worrying at his lip and mentally bidding his brother to go away.

“It must be nice, knowing that your future is paved out for you, knowing that you would only have to open your legs to be showered riches and glory, little brother.” Hanamiya had twirled a strand of his hair in his meticulous hand, an affectionate gesture that Ryou recognized, but still could not appreciate. “Alphas, on the other hand… Our sole duty is to prove our worth.”

He began to tug on Ryou’s hair then, tightening it ever so slightly in his balled fist, the smirk on his lips widening ever so slightly. “Your worth is as any common whore Father picks up off the streets.” He’d pushed Ryou against the wall, and Ryou could feel him exerting the alpha pheromones, forcing him to slip into submission and weakening his defenses.

His tugging had grown so intense now that Ryou was already tearing up, muttering apologies under his breath, and just wishing that he had never been born an omega. Wishing he hadn’t been born at all. The thought of pulling away hadn’t even occurred to him because he simply didn’t have the right to.  

Just as Ryou felt that his knees would begin to wobble and collapse, the pain increasing to the point of lungful chokes, Hanamiya had giggled, a childish mirth in the crinkling of his eyes, smoothing Ryou’s hair down and kissing his forehead in mock affection. Ryou remembered his skin burning from it. “Don’t cry, Ryou,” he’d said. “It’s only our nature.”

It’s been years since then but Ryou could still physically feel that hand wrenching at his hair again.

He had to fight the urge to cover it. Instead, he watched the sluice of water trailing down his arm, busying his mind with the feel of warm heat enveloping his body, the steam of the bath, the stillness. Anything to calm his nerves. But it was all to no avail. 

He couldn’t break away from the events that occurred a day prior. No matter which way he turned his thoughts, the screaming reminder of his biology couldn’t be ignored. 

He’d had his first bleeding, bright red and splotchy on his sheets, and it hadn’t even been an hour since his 18th birthday had passed. Wakamatsu, his assigned body guard and main confidant, had immediately gotten rid of the evidence, chucking the sheets into the fireplace, and Ryou, in his desperate need to verify that all of it was gone, watched until but an ember was left of it. Wakamatsu had promised that he’d never breathe a word of this to anyone, but Ryou knew that it was no use.

His smell was _different._

Even if there were no sheets, pillows, and clothes involved, his brother would only have to sniff the air around him to know that Ryou was fully capable of bearing children now, despite not even experiencing his first heat yet.

So, here he was, soaking in a bath in the hopes that it would drown out his scent and all traces of his nature.

The moonlight was filtering in through the open arched window to his right, the curtains swelling capriciously and flittering about, and a few lit candles, courtesy of Wakamatsu, dotted the tiled floor around him. Yet despite such measures, the calming ambience and scent of swirling lilac did nothing to appease the tremor in his bones.

He knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that it was only a matter of time.

Ryou hunched over himself, hugging his knees to his chest, the pattering of his heart so loud that he wondered if the beta servant outside his room could hear it.

He heard the cringe of the door.

Ryou stilled, then attempted to peer beyond the roman archway and pillars to get a glimpse at his disturber. “Kojiro-san?”

The echoes of his own voice and the chirping of the cicadas were the only answers he received. Then the trickling of childish laughter pervaded the room and that was all Ryou needed to know that this would be the climactic reveal he’d been wanting to avoid.

Hanamiya, clad in nothing but a bathrobe, emerged from behind the partition, bearing that carnivorous smirk, a telltale sign that his brother was to be completely obeyed and worshipped if Ryou wanted the night to end well for him. Quickly, he stood to his feet, the water parting around his figure and disrupting the surface as he bowed the way that his brother taught him to whenever he returned home from a venture.

“W-welcome home, my king,” he squeaked, his hands at a steeple reminiscent to that of a pleading prayer.

Hanamiya approached him with steady sway, giggling softly to himself, but Ryou didn’t dare to raise his eyes. Not until his brother gave him the go-ahead. “It’s good to be home, I guess. Look at me, Ryou.” His voice was menacingly gentle, but Ryou didn’t disobey. He lifted his eyes, meeting with steely gray. As par for the course, Hanamiya swept his damp bangs out of the way to bestow a light kiss to his forehead, then massaged at his temples down to his cheeks before resting upon his quivering lips. “It’s unfortunate I wasn’t able to spend your birthday with you.”

Ryou stiffened at the notion, but his brother didn’t seem to notice. His hands continued their trek down to his neck, the feather-light touches examining his Adam’s apple to advance down to his collarbones. “If I had been there, I would have thrown a massive celebration fit for the omegan prince. One of the ones Father used to throw, although they were only ever for his honor.” The hands began to sweep along his chest, softly brushing his budding nipples, Hanamiya’s eyes closely watching for any reaction. Ryou swallowed, his hands balling into fists behind his back with nails biting so deeply he could’ve ran blood.

Hanamiya cocked his head to the side. “Well, since I wasn’t there, what _did_ you end up doing, little brother?” Hanamiya’s thumbs began to dig a little deeper into his nipples, massaging them with intent. Ryou bit his lip to resist the urge to cry out. “Hmm?”

“I… I stayed in my room all day, my king. I wasn’t feeling too well.”

Hanamiya, seeming to have become bored with the lackluster response, moved away from his nipples, much to his relief, and began to caress at his sides before dipping lower and fondling at his ass, twisting his skin like moldable dough. Ryou, again, resisted the urge to cry out, his skin becoming particularly more sensitive to the sensations. His brother had always had a fascination with anticipating his reactions at the slightest touches, but he’d never been so violating till now.

“Oh, that’s too bad, Ryou. But, it doesn’t matter. I’m back from my little trip, so let’s enjoy this time together. Take this off me. Let’s reacquaint ourselves in the bath, neh?” The curious hands released him and Ryou swiftly made to divest his brother of the bathrobe, folding it neatly and placing it on the rack next to the tub. “Good. Now give your brother a massage. It’s been a long week.”

Ryou did as he was told, sliding over to make room for him as Hanamiya made to situate himself in the bath. He didn’t say a word as Ryou tended to his shoulders and back, letting out momentary sighs and gasps, but nothing more than that. Ryou tried to stop his hands from their shaking, focusing on the slide of his fingers against Hanamiya’s skin, the lavender oil filling his senses, but as each minute ticked on, the more nervous he became.

His brother should have already noticed the difference. He was observant to a fault, so Ryou couldn’t understand why he hadn’t brought up anything on his coming of age.

Hanamiya shoved his hands away. “Enough. Come to my lap, Ryou. I wanna see your face.”

Ryou shivered, anticipating another search on his body, but Hanamiya only made to have him sit between his legs. He maneuvered Ryou’s arms to rest around his shoulders, while his hung off the sides of the tub. Even though Hanamiya’s expression was open and seemingly unaffected, Ryou knew better than to assume that he wasn’t being keenly watched for any discomfort or twitch of the lip. He remained petrifyingly still.

“You’ve grown since the last time we’ve done this, Ryou. You don’t look like the little runt I used to remember. I wonder why that is. Don’t you?” Hanamiya almost whispered, mouthing against his neck.

Ryou didn’t say a word. He couldn’t.

“I wonder where the times have gone. If only that old geezer didn’t die off, we’d probably be out having fun like little kids still.” Hanamiya guffawed as if he uttered the funniest joke known to man. He shook his head, grappling at his hair, his smirk almost maniacal. “That damn bastard really screwed us over, Ryou. He made all these kingdoms mad at us because he promised military support, but our cavalries are bar to none because the economy, _our_ economy’s, gotten that shitty.”

Hanamiya bowed his head against Ryou’s sternum, wagging his head like a pouty child. “I don’t know what to do, Ryou. I’m lost.” Hanamiya picked his head up, peering into Ryou’s eyes with the most desperate of looks that Ryou could almost feel sorry for him. “Say, if there was anything you could do to save your older brother, you’d do it, wouldn’t you?”

Ryou couldn’t tell if Hanamiya wanted him to answer or not, but thought it best to at least nod his head to appease him. Hanamiya, like a starved man finding sliced bread, sighed in relief, hugging Ryou’s midriff with his ear against his pattering heart. “I knew you would, Ryou. You would never lie to me,” he said, kissing at his chest and dipping a thumb into his belly button. Ryou jolted from the ticklish sensation.

“You’d never lie to me,” Hanamiya reiterated. Then his ministrations stopped. “That’s why, when you didn’t send word out to me that you’d had your first bleeding, it really hurt my feelings.”

Ryou couldn’t breathe.

Hanamiya’s expression had hardened, his gray eyes cutting with not an ounce of a gleeful smirk on his lips. His fingers, which had been unmoving, grit into his hips, forcing involuntary squeals from Ryou’s mouth. “Did you think you could fool me with a spritz of azalea?”

“I-I’m sorry, brother, I-,”

Hanamiya slapped him. “Did I say you could speak?” He covered Ryou’s mouth with a vice grip, prohibiting him from uttering one more word. “From the hallway, your wretched stench was potent enough to make want to gag, and even being this close to you, I’m ready to vomit.”

He hurled Ryou away from him, uncaring whether it’d bruise his skin or break his rib. “Hmph, it doesn’t matter. This works out better in my favor. Even if you weren’t ready to bear children, I was still gonna set my plan in motion.”

Hanamiya stood to his feet, reaching for the towel so he could wipe himself off. Ryou stayed firmly in place, shakily adhering against the side of the tub, fearing any violence that may come his way and cowering even further when Hanamiya made to get closer. His brother cackled, unplugging the bathtub and watching as the water began to drain, leaving Ryou in a cold and quivering mess.

“Oh, guess what, Ryou? Remember that birthday present I was telling you about? I got it for you.” Hanamiya tossed the towel to the ground, kneeling next to the tub and invading Ryou’s space so that only a sliver of a piece of paper could get between their faces.

Ryou closed his eyes, willing the tears away, knowing what’s about to come.

“So you know that Touou kingdom we’ve heard about ever since we were kids? The one that’s known for its ruthless pillages and merciless killings? The king is looking for a suitable omega to bear his devil spawns. Haha! So, I mentioned my little brother’s name, unsullied and completely virginal.

“And whattaya know? His loony administrators were so moved by it that they immediately want you both to be wed at the earliest convenience. And get this! They promised me 8,000 horses and men with a solidifying contract between our kingdoms.” Hanamiya howled with uncontrollable passion, tossing his head back. “Oh, Ryou. You don’t know how much you’ve saved me. All you have to do is offer your ass to that damn Touou bastard, and let him fuck you till you’re good and pregnant.”

Ryou was crying but Hanamiya didn’t care. He only continued to laugh. “You’re serving your kingdom, Ryou. And that’s a lot more than any omegan whore in this place could amount to. Be proud.” But even as he said that, his words were mocking and they held no solace for Ryou whatsoever. Even when Hanamiya was already long gone, all he could do was sit in the bathtub, uncaring that he was shivering and purpling from the cold, hugging onto the last vestiges of freedom his limiting biology could give him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Read Author's Note above. Highly important for all to understand. 
> 
> Please K&R!~ New updates every weekend (since I actually wrote ahead for once AHHHHH)


	2. predator and prey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sakurai meets the man that will seal his fate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeeeaaaaahhh.... the weekend was coming around at such a sluggish pace that this spewed out. Woops.

Kojiro brushed at his hair, untangling the frays and knots and setting them back to rights. Ryou merely stared at his reflection, dreading the meeting but altogether resigned to meeting his to-be. Wakamatsu was stiff by the doorway, guarding from any intrusion, his expression wary and doggedly down.

“Would you please turn your head, your royal highness?”

Ryou absently obeyed, toying with the azalea perfume Wakamatsu had fetched him after his bleeding. It really _was_ a stupid idea. He bit his lip again.

“Kojiro-san,” he breathed. His beta servant stopped with his ministrations immediately. “I’m sorry to have interrupted my grooming, but… You’ve traveled throughout the six kingdoms, haven’t you? Do you know of anything else about the Touou kingdom besides the obvious? Again, I’m sorry for asking… I’d just like to be prepared.”

Kojiro set the brush aside, tweaking at the last remaining strands of his hair. “It’s no worry, your royal highness. Any notable person would be cautious around the Tououans. As you know, they are the home of the panther lineage. The king is known for his brazen approach to military tactics, and he has the most talented advisors marking his every move in the political scene. Truly he is a foe best having an alliance with.”

Ryou swallowed at the pointed gaze Kojiro gave him in the mirror, cowering in on himself. “A-and for his lovers… Does he treat them like…” he trailed off, not even able to visualize the word for fear that it would mean that it’s true.

“For his consorts?” Kojiro questions. “If you’re asking if he treats them like slaves, then yes, he does.” Ryou felt his heart plummet, already fearing what’s in store for him. “But,” Kojiro interrupts. “As for a Tououan king who takes a mate, it is uncertain how he’ll treat you. It’s quite unheard of for a king his age to take one on. It is unconventional, but not unwelcome.”

Kojiro, having assumed that Ryou’s questions were through, began to sift through his hair again, and all he could do was endure through it once more. Even though it wasn’t the answer he wanted to hear, it allowed for Ryou’s nerves to be calmed, if only just a little.

Once Kojiro was finished with his primping, Wakamatsu escorted him to the placebo in the garden where Hanamiya and a fox-faced stranger were already making themselves comfortable. At his appearance, the unknown beta bowed his head in recognition, and Ryou could only guess that he must be a representative from the Touou kingdom.

“It’s nice to formally meet you, Sakurai Ryou of the Kirisaki Daiichi kingdom, home of the snakes. Your presence, true to your humble brother’s descriptions, is accurate to the word.” Even though the words were flattering and amicable, Ryou couldn’t quite believe in them. They seemed almost too saccharinely sweet. He sat down next to Hanamiya nonetheless, bowing courteously.

“Um, it is likewise to meet you, uh, sir…” Ryou gulped, at a loss for words.

Seeming to see his discomfort, the fox-face chuckled. “Oh, my apologies, your royal highness. Where are my manners? I am Imayoshi Shouichi of the Touou kingdom, home of the panthers. I will be the translator for this evening’s events, as my king is very unsuited to the flourishes of your kingdom’s tongue. It’s quite unfortunate that you won’t be directly speaking to him, but I assure you that I’ll do my utmost to make your messages clear.”

Hanamiya began laughing at this point, slouching on the bench and crowding around Ryou’s space. “Oh, enough with the formalities. Where is this high king of yours? I’d like to get this ceremony started.”

Undeterred in the slightest, Imayoshi’s sly smirk didn’t falter. Instead, Ryou could hardly believe it’d go even wider. “My king does as he pleases with his time.”

Hanamiya frowned at that. “He can do as he likes, but I don’t much care for him wasting _my_ time.”

“I could only imagine the frustration, your majesty. I’ll be sure to relay them to my king.”

“Hmph, as you should. I don’t appreciate his tardiness.”

Imayoshi only kept on smiling.

Once the luncheon was brought out, Hanamiya got a little looser, his ire slowly eroding with some tea in his system, and as his anger began to ebb, so did his unfiltered curiosity. “So, Imayoshi-san. You’re not of the panther lineage but you swore adherence to Touou. You’re a fox, aren’t you?”

Putting his tea down with the most careful grace, Imayoshi smiled again. “Yes, I am.”

Hanamiya tittered. “I thought Touou was only strictly for panthers.”

“It was. But my king didn’t care for such stringent rules. He opened the kingdom to more diversity, and so far, it hasn’t erred him wrong.”

“Haha! Well, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. He _is_ taking a shining to my brother. It’s his choice if he wants to interbreed like that, even if I disagree.”

Imayoshi turned his attention to Ryou at that. His crafty gaze caused a shiver to pitter down his spine. “If I may ask, your brother… he’s of the rabbit.”

“That’s not a question. You were pretty assured, weren’t you?”

“My skills of ascertainment are unrivaled in Touou, so my apologies for the overblown confidence.” His apologies, to Ryou, sounded less than sincere and more cutting than anything. Hanamiya, sipping on his own tea, was unfazed by it.

“Confidence is a must in this world. More men would kill to have it than mere gold.”

“My king has plenty of both.”

“As I should expect. My brother deserves the finest. Right, Ryou?” Hanamiya jostled him, waiting for his backup. Ryou peered up through his bangs at the fox, unsure of what to say, the hesitant shake of his head forced by his brother’s unfaltering gaze.  “You see? So, I’d like to know, does he fuck his mates like mere slaves?” Ryou wasn’t even perturbed by Hanamiya’s crudeness. His brother was always keen on lording his status over other people, and clearly, despite Imayoshi holding a high position in his own kingdom, saw that Imayoshi was no better than the likes of other servants. “’cause I wouldn’t wanna be handing my little brother down to some fiend. That would be most grievous now, wouldn’t it?”

Ryou boiled inside. Hanamiya could care less about how this king would treat him.

Imayoshi chuckled. “I can only tell you what I know. My king… he’s insatiable, as most alphas are.”

Hanamiya sneered, clearly mirthful with the answer he received. “Oh, come now, don’t beat around the bush, Imayoshi-san. Tell Ryou. Tell him how your king truly is.”

For a moment, Imayoshi’s smile lowered at the corners, almost sobering in its sympathy before it was replaced with the trademark smirk again. “As a conqueror, he takes what’s rightfully his.”

And just as Hanamiya planned, Ryou began to feel fear settle in his heart, that momentary calmness Kojiro had instilled in him before completely vanishing. There was no getting out of coitus. He was going to have bear this stranger’s children without any say in it whatsoever. Wakamatsu, at his post behind the bench, felt his highness’s anxiety, wishing he could alleviate his tension if only just a little.

The pattering of hooves over dirt ground alerted all their attentions, and in the distance, found three horse-riders, two of which reeking alpha pheromones, but all three nonetheless donning the regal but tribal garb indicative of the Tououan lineage. The one on the right was a female alpha, her pink hair held in a high ponytail and billowing in the wind, and the one on the left was unerringly a beta, his strong build reminding Ryou of Wakamatsu.

Then there was the rider in the middle, and even without exerting his alpha pheromones like Hanamiya would do to get Ryou to undoubtedly submit, Ryou felt the difference in the air, the tangibility of his power and unforgiving strength. Around his shoulders draped a fur cape made of the honorary panther, and his form was clad in the black and red garments of his kingdom, his thick armoring of leather and weaponry exuding his prowess in battle.

Hanamiya ogled at the display, his smirk widening. “Ne, Ryou, did you know?” he whispered in his ear. “That people who have the hair color of the spectrum beyond brown and black. Do you know what they’re called? They’re called the Generation of Miracles, and they’re prophesized to be the ruling conquerors of the age. Heh, and they have two of them in this damn kingdom.”

Ryou, tried as he might to listen, couldn’t tear his eyes away from his mate-to-be.

“Well, whatever. It’s all a crock of shit, anyway,” Hanamiya scoffed. He pushed Ryou to his feet, edging him closer to the entrance of the placebo. “Make him like you, at least. Or else this will all be for nothing.”

With a last shove, Ryou was forcefully pit in front of the strongest alpha in the nation, left with nothing to do but endure the scrutiny of those formidable, blue eyes. He felt them rake over his entire body, beastly and outrageous in its gaze, but for some reason he just couldn’t take his eyes away. Even though his stare was as unforgiving and merciless as the rumors proclaimed, there was almost something entrancing in the way they met his, commanding full reciprocation and silent discussion.

Imayoshi, having stood up from where he had been sitting, bowed in his king’s presence. “Welcome, your majesty,” he began. “Sakurai-sama, this is Aomine Daiki, the unstoppable king of the Touou kingdom.” The king turned his steely gaze over to Imayoshi and began to speak, his words indecipherable, but deep and rough, the Tououan language harsh but velveteen in execution.

Imayoshi answered in the same fashion, and they exchanged conversation with Ryou, Hanamiya, and Wakamatsu none the wiser for what they were discussing. Hanamiya, feeling ostracized from a conversation that should _rightfully_ be controlled by him, grew more irritated by the minute.

“Can you tell me what he’s saying?” His demand broached no disobedience.

Imayoshi, as self-possessed as ever, chuckled. “Ah, yes, my apologies, Hanamiya-sama. Aomine-sama wanted me to tell you that he appreciates the kingdom’s landscape. It’s perfect for riding.”

Hanamiya smirked, but was unpleased. “Well, tell him that such frivolous things don’t matter to me. I want to know if he’s taking Ryou as his mate.”

Imayoshi bowed. “Of course.” He relayed the information back to his king, and in the same gruffness, Aomine replied.

Getting the gist, Imayoshi nodded and turned his gaze back to them. “He would like the wedding to be set in motion, preferably in the next two days.”

“The next two days? You must be joking,” Hanamiya hissed. “Weddings like these can take up to at least two weeks. There’s no way we’ll have it prepared in two days.”

Imayoshi, again, chuckled at this, Hanamiya’s protests seemingly petulant and childish to him. “Oh, no, your majesty. Please don’t get us wrong, but there _is_ to be a wedding in two days.”

“I don’t think-,”

“Not a Kirisaki Daiichi wedding, your majesty. Oh, no. A _Tououan_ wedding. My king will await the preparations.”

And with that, without listening to another gripe from Hanamiya, the king and his entourage left in a galloping rage, the sound reminiscent to that of conquerors, and Ryou’s fate was sealed.


	3. catalyst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Tououan wedding proceeds and Sakurai's night is ever young.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is the part where I warned you guys that Wakamatsu would be OOC AFFFFFF

Just as the Tououan king wanted, the wedding was ready within two days. Hanamiya wasn’t pleased with the preparations, the ceremony looking nothing like the traditional Kirisaki Daiichi wedding, typically strung up in billowing garlands, reminiscent to that of snakes, and set nearby a lake, where the snakes felt more at home.

Instead, the wedding was made more simple and almost Neanderthal in fashion. Where the garlands would have been hanging, flaming torches were lit, and where the lake would be, a shrouding tree was rooted in place. There would only be meats of the finest quality served with the darkest of wine and water, and drums would be chanting the whole way through, the wedding a more silent affair. And, the only source of entertainment, as Hanamiya was loathe to giving in to, was a brawl between the king and his most talented soldiers, meant to uphold the strength of their conqueror and to show his mate that he is the rightful ruler of said mate’s birthing capabilities.

It was as straightforward and ruthless as a sword.

And, as befitting of a Tououan wedding, the mate was to be rid of all the garments that they may have owned before conforming to Tououan ways. Hanamiya, as controlling and manipulative as he could be, could not even salvage Ryou’s Kirisaki Daiichi clothes, try as he might to embed into Ryou’s skull that he could never rid of the sufferings he sustained under Hanamiya’s rule.

As Kojiro flipped the veil over his face, Ryou felt almost glad to be leaving, despite the destination he was headed. It only meant he didn’t have to be in the same room as Hanamiya anymore.

“There you go, your royal highness,” Kojiro, as monotonous as ever, said.

Ryou stared at his reflection, clad in Tououan garments from head to toe, red and black, and a white fur cape cloaking his shoulders, the teeth of defeated panthers strung together on his back. His lips, cheeks, and eyes were marked in deep blue strips, reminding him of a vixen-like predator. The ornaments atop his head swayed as he looked at himself from left to right. Ryou could barely even recognize himself. “You are ready,” Kojiro whispered in what was the gentlest he'd ever heard the servant sound. Ryou could only fool himself to think that he would be missed.

Leaving Ryou to his guard, Kojiro bid adieu, tucking one last strand behind Ryou's ear. 

Wakamatsu, as attuned to his master as always, cleared his throat. Ryou glanced his way from where he sat at the boudoir. “Your royal highness, if I may speak my selfish thoughts?”

“Of course, Wakamatsu-san.”

Wakamatsu glanced at his feet in complete guilt, the anger riding underneath the surface. “It has been my greatest honor serving you. Seeing you at your happiest and safest is my one and only goal.” He shuffled uncomfortably, but forged on. “Your brother has shown me an unpayable kindness by allowing me to still serve you in the Touou kingdom, so please know that I will continue to do right by you.”

Ryou nodded in acknowledgment, standing to his feet and bowing to let Wakamatsu know that his sentiment had been accepted. “Thank you, Wakamatsu-san.”

“Yes,” Wakamatsu nodded his head, his expression stern and determined. “That’s why, even if the Tououan king is an alpha and a Generation of Miracle, I won't hesitate to crush him if he so much as hurts a strand on your head.”

At this, Ryou felt his heart quiver in fear for his beta guard. The promises that Wakamatsu was spouting were enough to be denounced treason, but all the same, Ryou felt so happy that he couldn’t help the tears that welled in his eyes. Wakamatsu instantly bristled at this, and twitched in motion to try and comfort him.

“I’m sorry if that upset you, your royal highness. It was simply something I felt needed to be said.”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “No… I’m very happy to have you as my body guard, Wakamatsu-san. I-I’m so sorry I’m like this,” he hiccupped.

Wakamatsu, though smiling, looked so sad that Ryou felt the onslaught of tears even more potently. “It’s all right, your royal highness. But… I’m afraid it’s time.”

Even though Ryou felt like crying more, he lightly wiped the tears from his cheeks, trying to avoid any smudges from the paint. With a burst of determination from Wakamatsu’s words, he steeled himself for the ceremony and strode toward his fate.

As he’d already seen, the ceremony was kept meek and modest. Already, the drums were beating with the cadence of his heart, and all the Kirisaki Daiichi advisors and administrators, as well as the Touou advisors and administrators, were seated on the ground and watching his every step as he walked down the aisle. The train of his veil scraped the grass, and nothing but the moonlight and flame torches illuminated the path, causing his resolve to waver and making him more nervous.

That same alpha woman he saw was sat at the front-most group, giving him the most heartfelt smile that Ryou had ever experienced in his life.

At the opposite side, Hanamiya was giving him the most threatening glare, daring him to make one mistake.

And at the center of it all, standing by a Tououan preacher, dressed in the blackest of tribal garments, his naked chest marked in blue and red underneath the same cape he wore on their first meeting, was Aomine Daiki, the inevitable father of any children he would bear, the only man he would ever be able to answer to.

Aomine stared him down, unaffected and austere, as Ryou took his place beside him and readied himself for a commitment he never wanted to be committed to.

As the ceremony commenced, Aomine said not one word to him. The preacher spoke in the Tououan tongue, and only in the pauses did Ryou repeat the words that Imayoshi had told him to say to solidify their union. The preacher then gestured for Ryou to bear his neck, and this, among others, was one of the things Ryou hadn’t been looking forward to: the bonding, a bonding of which that would prevent Ryou from ever seeking another alpha’s touch.

Reluctantly, Ryou craned his neck as Aomine undid the clasp to his choker. But even though his hands were battle-hardened and rough, the way he tipped his head was gentle and sensual, and Ryou couldn’t tell if it was because he was an alpha that he was readily able to submit or because his touch was just that soft.

Lowering his head and sweeping the veil aside, Aomine’s teeth grazed the flesh of his neck, enough to nick it, and then it was a sudden embedding of teeth and all Ryou could do was stand petrified at the onslaught of pain. To his great relief, Aomine released some of his alpha pheromones, and immediately he was made calm by it, to the point that he even began to like the intrusion. He shivered at the new sensation.

Slowly, and almost too soon, Aomine retracted from his neck before leisurely licking a strip across the bite. Instantly, he felt the wound begin to close on its own, and felt the lightest of kisses land upon the scar, making him moan. Aomine noticed this, and a smirk began to emerge on his lips. Ryou could only hide his embarrassment from behind the veil, steering his eyes to the ground and willing a black hole to swallow him.

Eventually, festivities pivoted towards more rowdy and violent activities, and Aomine laid his claim to Ryou once more by slaying all his soldiers one by one in a fiery and masculine fury. He’d discarded the cape early on and handed it to the pink-haired alpha, much to her dismay, so his movements couldn’t be impeded, and laid waste to even more of his men. By the end of the brawling, Aomine was heaving and sweating ferociously, but the uninhibited smile on his lips after sparring with his soldiers made Ryou feel like he was blushing. He covered his face once he realized the pink-haired alpha had been smiling at him conspiratorially.

“It’s okay,” she said, shocking Ryou with her perfect pronunciation. “It seems pretty wild to see somebody looking so grrr! all the time, and then have this flip side where he looks like he could be such a little kid.”

“Y-you speak my language?” he asked. Immediately, he bowed his head. “I’m so sorry! I forgot my place.”

“Oh, nonsense!” She waved her hand nonchalantly. “You’ve got as much authority as the king now, you know?” Ryou bristled at this, unused to such recognition. “Haha! You probably aren’t used to it, huh?” she guessed perfectly.

Ryou shook his head, and she gave him a sympathetic smile. Feeling the unwelcome glare trained their direction, she looked up to meet Hanamiya’s eyes from across the field. “That’s your brother, right? He’s really giving us a looker.”

Ryou didn’t even have to glance to know that Hanamiya was less than pleased. “Yes… he’s my step-brother, from the family my mother married into.”

She hummed in musing, unhooking her legs to scoot closer to where he was, sat poised and waiting for Aomine to beckon him for the last activity of the night. He dreaded it more and more as the minutes ticked on. Something must have shifted in his expression because the pink-haired alpha began to soothe his back, cooing at him softly.

“Don’t look so scared. If anything, Aomine-kun isn’t as bad as he seems.” Ryou startled at the way she addressed the king, wondering how close the two truly were. At his surprise, the pink-haired alpha gasped and covered her mouth. “Oh, haha! I guess that _would_ be too informal to use in this language. But calling him by something even more formal than that just leaves a bad taste in my mouth. He’s already big-headed enough as it is,” she scoffed. “For now, just disregard it! But, honestly, he really isn’t too bad. If you give him a chance, you might find that there’s more than meets the eye.”

The drums stopped beating.

Immediately, all the attention was on him, and then at the approaching figure of his king, his _mate_ , tugging at the reins of one of the blackest horses Ryou has ever seen. If he squinted his eyes, the horse would blend with the night, it was so dark.

The crowd parted like the giving way of water, but Aomine spared none of them a glance, his eyes solely on Ryou’s, his purpose clear and blaring.

When Aomine reached where he was, slowly, he proffered his hand, waiting for Ryou’s response. Ryou looked to the pink-haired alpha for any advice, any sort of answer, but all she did was smile at him warmly and utter a small “go.” He looked to Aomine’s rough hand again, noticing the deep ridges and formed calluses, and somehow through that, despite the trepidation, found enough courage to accept his offer and be hoisted to his feet.

Without missing a breath, Aomine lifted him from the ground with firm hands at his hips to place him atop the horse. At this, the pink-haired alpha stood up, taking Ryou’s hands into hers and squeezing them tightly as Aomine situated himself behind Ryou, the sea of people animating back to life.

“Don’t be afraid. He’ll be taking you to the lodging south of here to end the night on the mighty steed he’s chosen for you. It’s the Tououan tradition of utmost respect.” She then kissed his trembling fingers, shaking her head. “Just think about the life you’re leaving behind. He’ll take you away from this place.”

Ryou shook with the desire to cry again, but held it back to show everyone in Kirisaki Daiichi that he could be stronger than this. He _would_ be stronger than this.

“I-I’m sorry to ask this of you, but what’s your name?” he timidly asked.

She smiled again as Aomine’s hands encircled around his stomach, keeping a steady grip on him as the horse jostled back and forth to familiarize with their weight.

“My name is Momoi Satsuki, advisor and right hand to the Tououan king, general of the second brigade and strategist for military formation, and now you’re main confidant. Nice to formally meet you, Sakurai-kun,” she said, giving one last kiss to his fingers. “Don’t. Fear,” she reiterated, and with that she released him from her soft clutches.

Aomine whipped the reins, and the horse rose to action, rearing for the short travel. In his periphery, Ryou could see the baleful ire Hanamiya was sending his way, and Wakamatsu, his ever-vigilant body guard, looking so distraught that he couldn’t follow that Ryou could feel the inklings of fear still wedge itself in the crevices of his heart.

But, with Momoi’s words ringing in his ears, he swallowed that fear and he rode into the night with the midnight steed he could now call his own.


	4. the bond that binds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sakurai gets his first taste.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: this is where the dubious consent takes place. Please tread lightly.

The steed galloped for what seemed like an eternity, with the only company Ryou had the indecipherable king at his back and the mysterious moon at his side. Ryou could feel the steady beat of Aomine’s heart, not even close to matching the heavy pounding in his chest. It was as if his heart was stuck in an endless conflict of wishing for time to stand still or wishing for time to speed up.

In this moment, Ryou could fantasize that he was being whisked away by a nameless rider, to be taken away from his brother’s merciless hands, to be freed from all his sufferings, to even be freed from his own biological callings.

But the more the fantasy ran wild as this galloping horse, the more that Ryou realized how foolish and unrealistic it was. The destination was ever nearer, and there was only so much further to go. Instead of prolonging the inevitable, Ryou wanted to get the deed over with so he could turn over on his side and will away the aftermaths of what tonight will be.

But time was independent of any wishes, and so it stayed constant as Aomine’s beating heart.

When they finally did reach the lodging, Ryou was so overwrought with dread that he could feel a certain numbness sink into his bones and marrow. Already, he could feel himself depart from reality, even as Aomine gently set him back to earth so he could tie the horse near a post.

Ryou stood in stupefied terror, and couldn’t move his legs any nearer to the lit lodging even if he tried.

Aomine seemed to notice this but did not hesitate to heft him over his shoulder to be carried into shelter. It was when he finally kicked the door shut with a resolute click that Ryou was deposited onto the bed and the fear threatened to overtake his entire being.

Aomine divested himself of his cape again, tossing it to the ground, unbuckling his belt and running fingers through his blue hair but Ryou remained stock-still, absently staring at the ceiling and wishing he could exit from his head space if only for just the hour this would all last.

Before completely stepping out of his pants, Aomine ran a light touch down his throat, and Ryou shivered, the saltiness of tears hitting the back of his eyes and throat so strongly that he could barely contain them anymore. He tried to blink them away, focusing on this task alone to get his mind elsewhere. He didn’t even dare to glance in Aomine’s eyes, fearing the ultimate backlash he’d receive.

Ryou was tugged by the ankles to meld against Aomine, his legs splayed wide to accommodate for the alpha’s wide hips. He felt Aomine grind against him, and Ryou whimpered helplessly, disgusted by the display and wanting to escape with all the fiber of his being.

“Undress,” Aomine commanded. Instantly, Ryou was struck by, yet again, how gentle the demand was. The pronunciation was less than satisfactory, but Ryou knew well enough what it meant. He swallowed but made to do as he was told, his hands shaking with the effort as he tugged at the strings of his robe while Aomine helped him in wrestling out of the veil and cape.

The tears were free-falling but he was helpless to stop them, snot clogging his sinuses as Aomine caressed at where his bond mark was, kissing his collarbones and licking his slow descent down to his belly button. He deftly dipped his tongue into it, the little flicks of it causing Ryou to spasm uncontrollably and to clutch at the sheets.

Ryou didn’t want to feel this way. It just didn’t feel right, being caressed by a man he barely even knew. He was wracked with too much fear to relax, and his breathing was so labored he was wondering if it was because of the pain of doing so from his nose or simply because the mental pain was too great.

Aomine didn’t seem to care for either, tugging at both of their pants and getting a frustrated crease between his brows when Ryou’s wouldn’t give way. He lifted his head from Ryou’s stomach, and eyed him intensely. “Lift,” he grunted, pulling at Ryou’s pants again.

Ryou did as he was told, the swift discarding of both of their clothes causing him to reel for his loss as he was laid bare before the man that would take it all. He sobbed into his knuckles as quietly as he could, muttering apology after apology, but all it did was fall on deaf ears.

“P-please don’t… I-I-I’m sorry,” he begged, even as Aomine flipped him over to lie flat on his stomach. His hips were then propped up, Aomine’s rough hands smoothing down his legs and thighs with calculated strokes. Aomine mused over his quivering legs, widening them ever so slightly to allow himself access, and all Ryou could do was pray.

“No?” Aomine muttered as his thumb grazed against Ryou’s entrance.

Ryou jolted away from the touch. “I-I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! Please forgive me!”

“Sorry?” Aomine tried on his tongue, the lull in the word indicating his discomfort. He wriggled his thumb against Ryou again, asking the same question.

“No?”

Ryou whimpered against his finger, tremors wracking his entire body as he processed the question and realized that this king was asking for his _consent_. He dared to peer into Aomine’s eyes, and what he found there was genuine curiosity, no maliciousness or forcefulness behind them, although frustration was still clearly written there.

Ryou vehemently shook his head no, almost comical in how earnestly he denied access to this king bestowing him the one thing he’d never been given before: a choice.

Aomine sighed. He then flipped Ryou to his back again, peering down at him to see the tears streaming down his face. He shook his head, almost as if in disbelief, before he took the both of them in his hands and slotted their hips together.

Ryou squeaked from the touch but nonetheless held his tongue as his king stroked them in tandem.

Aomine huffed against him, setting a slow pace for them as Ryou twitched from their sliding skin. “This enough,” he grunted, barring no more protests. Ryou understood that this was the best he was going to get, that this was the kindest the king would allow in their given situation.

His hands were rough with years of wear and tear on the battlefield, but his strokes were patient and leisurely. He stared at Ryou with such intensity that Ryou could feel the signs of a heated blush behind his cheeks. Without even thinking about it, his arms came up to cover his chest, but Aomine didn’t permit it. His free hand came to lock on one of Ryou’s fists, and he tossed it aside and did the same with the other and frowned.

“No shame,” he growled.

Ryou couldn’t disobey, despite desperately still wanting to salvage any remnants of his modesty.

Aomine continued with his ministrations, focusing on their completion. He rolled his thumb against their slits, spreading their shared precum and sliding the rest down their lengths. Ryou tossed his head back and cried. The sensory overload of the physicality he was experiencing and the emotional weight of this union began to set in, and all he could do was drown in the temporary pleasure, offering what little he could to this shockingly gentle king.

He timidly rocked his hips, grappling at any and all of the sheets.

Aomine licked at his bond mark again, caressing his smudged left cheek and smearing what blue paint had remained on his mouth. For a moment, they only breathed against each other’s lips, Aomine bringing them closer and closer to release.

“More?” Aomine whispered against his lips.

With a courage he hadn’t known even existed within himself, Ryou conceded. “More,” he demanded with a soft breathlessness.

Aomine smirked, full of teeth and all this boyishness that Ryou felt like he was looking at a different person. With practiced precision, Aomine put Ryou’s thighs together, inserting himself between them to make an easy glide. Each slide of his dick stimulated Ryou’s, and the longer Aomine stretched the drag, the more it grazed his ass and shot fire down his spine.

Ryou couldn’t contain any more of his sighs and moans. It felt too good, the first taste of sexual pleasure he’d ever experienced, and he didn’t ever want it to end. If it wasn’t for how focused he was on the sensation, then he would have been embarrassed at how desperate he sounded with his breathy mewls and tearful whimpers.

But Aomine didn’t care. In fact, he was spurred on by it.

He looked upon Aomine’s face, so determined and ready to cum that Ryou surprised himself with his own release, his back arching into Aomine’s touch.

Aomine sped up, Ryou’s thighs slick from his own cum and shaking from the aftermath of his orgasm.

The sensation was creating so much friction against his already sensitive faculties that Ryou, in his desperate attempt to hasten the process, added his fingers into the mix and stroked along the tip of Aomine’s dick.

Aomine huffed, the crease between his brows deepening in concentration as he bit into Ryou’s ankle, his movements more erratic but precise.

The cum shot across his belly, shocking Ryou back to the present.

They breathed in hefty melodic unison, Ryou gathering his thoughts and Aomine releasing his legs from his person, stepping away from the bed and already tugging his pants back on. Maintaining the small distance between them, Aomine raked fingers through his blue hair again, wiping the sweat from his forehead and eyeing Ryou warily.

He pointed at Ryou, gesturing to his own shed clothes, grunting a resolute “Dress,” and that’s when Ryou figured out that he was telling him to put his robe back on.

Ryou made haste to do so even in his pleasure-addled mind, and slipped his head into the dress, already feeling the edges of regret wallowing beneath the surface. Before he could even think about it anymore, Aomine shoved a bottle of wine into his hands, mimicking a drinking motion. Ryou looked on in puzzlement.

Aomine scratched at his head, seemingly forgetting the word in Ryou’s language, grasping for straws in how to convey it to him. He snatched it back from his hands and chugged some of the alcohol down, and then wiped at his mouth like an uncouth barbarian, offering the drink back to Ryou. He murmured something in his own language, and Ryou could only surmise that it must've meant “drink.”

He eyed the bottle warily for a moment, but then realized this must be the Tououan peace offering equivalent to an apology. “I-I’m sorry, but thank you,” Ryou mumbled, throwing caution to the wind, and finally, _finally_ , freeing himself from all doubt and persuasion.

The alcohol was thick and acidic down his throat, but Ryou couldn’t have asked for more. He felt so glad that this night didn’t end as badly as he thought it would and the hiccup behind his lips triggered another set of fresh tears.

Aomine groaned, and gestured for him to drink again. “Ugh, no more cry,” he insisted.

And so Ryou did as he was told and took another swig.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry... Like I said... a lot of things would be different about the Dany and Drogo story compared to Aomine and Sakurai. The differences will only begin to magnify hahahahahaha


	5. new territory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sakurai is transported to the Tououan lands, and finds himself having to adjust to the country's unique ways.

Within the following week, Ryou, and in extension Wakamatsu, was transferred to the Touou kingdom by way of the midnight steed Aomine bestowed on him. Aomine and his men had gone ahead to clear the path, while Momoi stayed behind to make sure Ryou was properly escorted. Wakamatsu was following closely behind, his watch even more vigilant than usual.

Momoi laughed next to him, atop her own horse. “Is he always like that?” she asked.

“Um, Wakamatsu-san?”

“Mm-hm. He looks like he’s gonna pop a vein, being paranoid like that.”

Ryou nervously tittered. “Um, he always likes to make sure I’m not putting myself in harm’s way.”

Momoi hummed in musing, steering her horse down a more beaten and rocky path. Ryou and Wakamatsu followed suit, the leisurely patter of the hooves a melodic rhyme in his ears. Momoi noticed his tranquility with a cock of her head. “You’ve never gone riding before?”

Ryou shook his head. “No… my brother thought it would give me ideas.”

“Hmm, what ideas?”

He clutched a little more tightly to the reins. “He thought that… I would try to escape.”

Momoi’s smile faltered to a grim line. “He’s really sick in the head, isn’t he?” Ryou swallowed, fearing the consequences of his answer. Before he could utter such, though, Momoi shook her head and sighed, waving the notion away.

“But, well, on to lighter matters,” she chirped. She then waggled her eyebrows in Ryou’s direction. “So… you don’t look too traumatized. Was he gentle?”

At this, Ryou instantly puffed up into a red plume of smoke, covering his face and whimpering into them. “M-Momoi-san…” he moaned.

She giggled. “Hey, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. It’s a natural way of life. Although, honestly, I’m surprised he took my advice.”

“Your… advice?” Ryou squeaked.

“Mm-hm! I told him not to force you into doing anything! Really, that idiot is actually a softie, but deep down he knows he just wanted someone to tell him to act gentle so that he can blame it on someone else,” she harrumphed, crossing her arms petulantly.

“But, why would he would do that? I-Isn’t he a conqueror that takes what’s rightfully his?”

Momoi sighed, seemingly exasperated at having to explain this to someone else once again. “That’s just the image he wants everyone to see. True, he can be pretty ruthless, scratch that, _more_ than ruthless, but he’s not just a mindless brute. He’s fair where it counts.”

“O-oh…” Ryou trailed off, not quite believing her words completely. He just couldn’t envision the king as somebody who could be so understanding and just. Typically, kings in his head were bigoted tyrants who held no regard for social graces and anybody who ranked below them. They were underhanded, violent, selfish, and greedy alphas who wanted nothing more than to rape and pillage every kingdom or principality they came across.

“I can see your disbelief clear as day, Sakurai-kun,” she smiled. “But, really, it’s true! In fact, Aomine-kun didn’t even want the marriage to go through.”

Ryou cocked his head. “H-he didn’t?”

“Haha, no. He was perfectly content being able to go to any brothels without any marriage on his mind. Not to say he won’t go to them still, but well, he _is_ a king.” She rolled her eyes at that, unimpressed by his debauchery.

“U-um… actually, it would be good… if he went to those, I-I’m sorry to say,” he muttered below his breath. Momoi, with her exceptional hearing, laughed at it.

“Why? Because then he wouldn’t be tempted to do anything with you?” She hit the target right on the mark.

He apologized meekly.

“Oh, don’t worry about it. Arranged marriages are never fun, especially for the omega. But I promise that he won’t ever do anything to intentionally hurt you. He’s an oaf, but he has his moments.”

Ryou nodded his head. Although he was still unsure if he could place his virtue in Aomine’s hands, he was starting to understand what kind of alpha he truly was.

“U-um, if you don’t mind my asking,” he began, peering up at her through his bangs. “If he really didn’t want this marriage to happen… why did it?”

Momoi hummed again, tapping at her chin thoughtfully. “Well, originally this was set up by those old magistrates claiming that he’s at the ‘ripe’ age of reproduction. He should have an heir now to secure ruling. Of course, Aomine didn’t care for such politics, but the leader of the Generation of Miracles kinda forced it on him, and that’s one person he can’t disobey.

“But, if I had to guess why he chose _you_ …” She quirked her lip to the side, more than likely assessing Aomine’s actions from every angle. “Well, he probably chose you because he was too lazy to go to another kingdom to look for a mate, if I’m to be completely honest.” She shrugged her shoulders, giving him the most clueless look a human could physically express.

Ryou felt his face go up in steam again, but for completely other reasons. “I-I guess that makes sense…” he chuckled halfheartedly.

“Ah, but!” Momoi waved her hands around. “It could be that it’s because he felt bad for you!”

Ryou blinked up at her, questions in his eyes.

“Yeah! I mean, he really despises your brother, more than you would believe. So… he probably wanted to take away the one thing that gave him entertainment!”

That, in itself, made Ryou feel even more depressed. He slouched on the horse, feeling completely defeated.

“Ah! I mean, you know, anyone could tell your brother was bullying you, so he noticed that and wanted to help you out… I think.” Even to Momoi, it sounded like a stretch, but she forged on, patting Ryou on his back. “And besides, he thinks you’re really cute!”

“Eh?”

Wakamatsu turned his head as well, completely baffled by this new piece of information.

“Oh, haha, did I forget to mention that?” She scratched at her hair innocently. “Yeah. He told me the day that he saw you. Um, not in those exact words but I got the gist from his Aomine-speak!”

Ryou, for once in his life, giggled softly to himself. He couldn’t imagine the king uttering such nonsense. “What did he say? Uh, sorry for being nosy!”

She waved it off again. “No, you’re fine! But, well, he said it in our language, so it roughly translates to ‘he is puny.’ But, it’s also a certain phrasing that means ‘someone to be protected.’”

And then, Ryou’s blushing intensified further, for another completely different reason. Momoi smiled at him, patting his shoulder, but didn’t say another word.

The trekking continued for what seemed like hours. The sun was beating down on their backs so hard that Ryou felt like he was going to collapse from the dehydration alone. At one point, Wakamatsu had to join him on his horse and lend the reins to Momoi so that Ryou wouldn’t tip over and dig his teeth into the dirt.

By the time nightfall came creeping in, Ryou was ready to nod off, but then the path became less narrow, the dirt road paving way for towering grass fields, blooming shrubbery, and rolling mountains. Beyond the trees and grasses, Ryou could make out dozens upon dozens of mudbrick buildings, tiered from bottom up, almost forming outreaching hands toward the one cobblestone castle upon a hill, a fortress within its own right. Beneath the moonlight, the kingdom contended with its brightness, glowing in activity and uninhibited freedom.

Once they passed through the gates, Ryou was shocked at how immersive the city was in its festivities and he found himself completely swept into its rhythm.

The people bowed at his presence, deriving from the bonding mark that this was indeed their king’s mate, and offered him fruits and flowers in droves, all of which Momoi intercepted and accepted for him, carrying it on the extra steed.

Music pervaded the uphill streets, calming but pulsating in energy, and entangled with the citizens’ rough mother tongue. Ryou couldn’t take his eyes away from any of it.

Not from the bazaars that teemed with independent energy, separate from the mingling townspeople. Not from the streaming balls of light dotting the streets and walls, nor from the grappling vines embracing the brick of the buildings. The dark flags ambling from their posts, the Tououan symbol waving proudly. The elaborate lamps, perfectly carved and kaleidoscopic. The smell of nature blending with the aroma of thick spices and perfumes wafting in the air.

Beta performers took to the streets, their Tououan garb accentuating the red brick as they lost themselves in circling motions, welcoming their wonderful military leader, as well as the new omegan king, into the city.

“We’re almost there, Sakurai-kun,” Momoi informed. Ryou almost felt sad about it, but bid the energetic displays goodbye, entering the furthermost tier of the city.

This gate was massive in stature and carved with the most meticulous hands, the silhouette of men, in what Ryou would surmise would be the six Generation of Miracles, set in stone in one of the most honorary statues Ryou has ever seen. Not even the sculptors of Kirisaki Daiichi could mimic the skill in at least one of them.

Momoi spoke to the guard in the Tououan language, and like the guards at the other gate, they bowed deeply to Ryou, and allowed them entry. From where Ryou sat on his horse, the castle was even more colossal up close, intimidating in its presence and much more austere compared to the city below.

Momoi led them to the front door where she then divested herself from her horse and handed the reins to the attendant. Wakamatsu did the same, offering his hands for Ryou to take to hoist him back to the ground.

“Well, I’m famished!” Momoi stretched, then pulled at her ponytail to let her hair loose. “Come on, Sakurai-kun. I’ll show you to your room. Then after that, I can you take on the ground tour. Though, honestly, the library is probably the best part of this place. This castle is pretty boring compared to the one down south. That one, we’ll _definitely_ have to explore together!” she beamed, shaking with excitement.

But Ryou barely listened. He was still reeling from everything.

As Momoi sped along and gestured to everything with a grand flourish, offering little tidbits of Tououan history, all Ryou could think was that this was where his new life would begin and end.

*

The days passed along in a blur of events.

Aomine barely spent any time in the castle, the enclosure and restraint making him antsy and impatient. So, typically, he’d busy himself with matters concerning military strategies and political meetings, all of which Ryou was neither interested in nor privy to.

Ryou took advantage of his absence, exploring the castle. He was uninhibited with his joy, full of curiosity and wonder, because in this castle, no one questioned his actions or deemed him suspicious. He was, in extension to Aomine, also their king, so they bowed their heads in respect and Ryou would bow in return. The servants always ticked their eyebrows when he did, but he figured it must just not be their custom to have someone of higher ranking reciprocating respect.

Eventually, he got enamored with the fine arts that Touou offered, with its expressive human caricatures. Somehow, he always found that it told a story, so he took to learning the language and found that he had a knack for adding more words to his otherwise very limited lexicon.

Sometimes, Momoi would laugh at him because he would speak so formally, but then she decided she’d teach him more of the language when time would permit her. “You really would, Momoi-san? I’m so sorry! You don’t have to! You’re busy enough as it is.”

Momoi just smiled, reclining in her chair and crossing her legs. “Oh, it’s no problem! Besides, if you and that idiot king of ours are ever to understand each other, it’d definitely have to come from your side. We really tried hammering other languages in that brute’s head, but the only one he really took to was Rakuzan’s! Ah, geez…”

She continued to bemoan his mate’s shortcomings and all Ryou could do was entertain her with some tea and books.

Eventually, they’d both retire for the night, Momoi in a lodging at the precipice of town, and Ryou in his shared bedchamber with Aomine. Typically, he would always come in to an already exhausted Aomine sprawled out all over the bed, and then Ryou would take to the couch and drape a fur blanket over himself and wake to find that Aomine had already left to tend to his morning duties.

And if Ryou ever did see him wandering the halls with a few of his advisors, or even by himself, Ryou would shrink himself against one of the available alcoves to avoid conversation or eye contact. He felt beyond embarrassed ever since the night of their coupling, and although he knew he probably performed a less than lackluster performance, he didn’t want Aomine to get any more ideas.

But tonight, when Ryou entered the room, Aomine was up and awake, dressed in nothing and parading in his glory nakedness. Ryou turned his eyes away, wringing his hands together.

“Hello,” Aomine greeted gruffly, making a beeline for some wine in the ice box.

Ryou said hello in the Tououan language. Aomine perked up at this.

“You speak Tououan?”

Ryou timidly shook his head no. “V-very little,” he answered in the Tououan language once more. Aomine nodded, uncorking the wine bottle and pouring himself a glass.

“Satsuki teach?” Aomine asked.

Ryou nodded, plastering himself closer to the door as Aomine approached the bed and sat himself upon it. He was hoping Aomine wasn’t thinking of doing anything frisky tonight. He just wasn’t ready.

Sensing his discomfort and getting annoyed by it, Aomine summoned him over, patting the spot next to him as he sipped on his wine. “Sit.”

Ryou swallowed but ambled over with great reluctance. He sat at the farthest edge of the bed, nervously fingering at the strings of his robe, guarding his modesty as much as the limits would allow in the presence of an alpha. His other hand encircled the wooden canopy of the bed, in the hopes that if his king really did want to do something excessive, he could at least grapple onto this to prolong the inevitable.

Aomine closed the distance, offering the wine for Ryou to taste.

“N-no thank you,” he declined as politely as he could. Aomine raised an eyebrow at that but conceded nonetheless. He placed the glass down on the bedside table but stayed his place next to Ryou, examining the contours of his face.

Ryou flinched when Aomine began caressing the bond mark, but offered his neck anyway, albeit hesitatingly, his sudden biological urge to be claimed being triggered by this callused thumb. Aomine kissed it then, gently and sensuously, softly prying Ryou’s hands from his robes so that could untangle the first string. And then the second string. And then the third string.

Aomine guided him to his back, hands fondling at his chest and tweaking at his hardening nipples. His body shook with the involuntary fear, but Ryou couldn’t help the elicited sigh it wrought from him. Aomine stared down at him, so closely that Ryou could smell the berries of the wine on his lips. “No?” Aomine asked him again and Ryou could only blink.

“I’m s-sorry,” he stuttered. “Please… not all the way,” he pleaded in Aomine’s language, hoping that with this, it would derail anything further than what they did the first night they spent together.

Aomine hissed under his breath, clearly frustrated, but nodded in understanding. Instead, he continued to play with Ryou’s chest, rubbing soothing circles on his ribs, and applying light suctions to his nipples. Ryou arched his back against them, craving more of it and feeling himself react. Aomine, finding that Ryou was relaxing more and more, split Ryou’s legs apart and then departed to dig through his bedside drawer.

He returned to Ryou with a procurement of lavender oil, but immediately made to do calming gestures before Ryou could panic and cry. “I won’t go all the way,” Aomine reiterated. “Not all the way.”

So Ryou nodded and Aomine got to work.

He slathered oil all over his hand, massaging Ryou’s dick and causing him to moan into his fist, but then lavishing attention to his entrance. Aomine took his time, prodding Ryou with a mere finger and seeing how much he could handle before adding another one to test the waters once more.

Ryou tossed his head back, eyes rolling to the back of his head, the sensation so otherworldly than what they’d done previously that he didn’t know how to subdue his moans. He felt heat all around, burning him like an inextinguishable inferno, and he opened his legs wider, grabbing onto Aomine’s shoulders to welcome more of the feeling of breaking apart.

“A-Aomine-sama,” he whimpered. At that, his king added the third finger and Ryou couldn’t take much more than this. “P-please,” he begged, even though he didn’t exactly know what he was begging for.

Aomine just continued to stare down at him, increasing the pace of his fingers, and taking Ryou’s breath away with it. Ryou nudged his cheek with his nose, sighing into the king’s ear, and hugged their torsos close. It just felt so incredibly _good._

Aomine, with his free hand, rubbed his thumb on Ryou’s bottom lip, prohibiting him from closing his mouth and ever depriving the world of his wondrous sighs. “Ryou,” Aomine grunted in that rough voice of his before stealing Ryou’s final breath and sealing it within himself, tipping Ryou’s neck back and forcing him to model the very form of omegan submission to his alpha.

He kissed with fervor and passion, so uncoordinated but so spectacular. Ryou couldn’t object, the tongue delving into his mouth and claiming everything that he is, potent and powerful; he could only moan to match Aomine’s hunger.

He hadn’t even known that he’d finished until Aomine released him from the kiss and playfully bit at his chin. Ryou was so lost and overloaded with sensitivity that he didn’t even realize that Aomine was chuckling at what must’ve been the blissed expression on his face.

The next morning, Aomine was gone again, and the pattern persisted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seems kinda rushed! But it gets heated up in the next one, so stay tuned :D


	6. desire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sakurai begins to understand what kind of person Aomine truly is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a lot of developments in this chapter! WHOO!~

Ryou stared down into his cup of tea. It was lukewarm now, the spices watered down at best. Ryou could barely down it anymore, so took to glimpsing at his murky reflection, taking respite from his heavy study of the Tououan language.

Ever since he and Aomine had broken the silence in their bedroom, interactions between them were less minimal, and although most of them were based on happenstance rather than a sole desire of yearning for the others’ company, Ryou figured it was better than just guessing what the other was saying. Conversations were getting on the lighter side of convoluted, and Ryou could tell Aomine was growing more and more irritated by his less than stellar guess-and-tell and there was only so much more Ryou could do to understand Aomine’s gruff, vague one-liners and sweeping hand motions.

He’d cracked open almost every book he could reach in the vastly immaculate library, and for the ones he couldn’t grapple onto on his own, he asked Wakamatsu to fetch for him. There were so many books he wanted to explore and understand, so many old relics with sturdy spines and undisturbed inking. He ran his fingers down each page delicately, admiring the care with which each book was written and replicated. He loved the woody but vanilla-like smell wafting from the pages and if it wasn’t for Wakamatsu watching him like a determined hawk, he would’ve sunk his nose in between the folds to drown in it.  

Ryou had never had something so simple and time-worn feel so elaborate and freshly new.

He even knew enough now to understand the workings behind the caricature stories he’d been intrigued with. At one point, Ryou had gotten so engrossed in the intricacies of the drawings that he’d fallen asleep on the mahogany desk and found himself draped with a fur blanket once he awoke.

Ryou yawned into his hand.

He’d been studying the language from the moment he had woken up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and barely remembering to don his robes back on, parading around in unabashed nakedness. Aomine always preferred that they slept with no clothes on, even on nights when he didn’t feel like toying with Ryou’s body. It was an odd thing to have to familiarize with, but strangely enough, he took to it easily.

Aomine was a spokesperson for no shame in one’s body whatsoever. Every time Ryou would hiccup and weep for his vulnerable skin, Aomine would growl and grunt that his “skin is nice” in that respective order, so he couldn’t even protest.

Ryou covered his face, hiding it from Wakamatsu’s view, knowing full well that his face was erupting in red.

Almost every night, Aomine would ask for his consent and in each of them, Ryou felt his hesitation crumbling, but the fear was so embedded in his being that it was hard for Ryou to fully concede. They slept on opposite sides of the bed once those activities were over, frustrated and not fully satisfied, and Ryou could feel it rolling off Aomine in heated waves, the irritation so potent that Ryou could almost feel bad for him.

For some unfathomable reason, Aomine never went beyond what Ryou would allow. Deep down, Ryou appreciated the king’s restraint. He just didn’t know how long it would last.

As terrifying as it was to admit, eventually, Aomine would stop being so courteous towards Ryou’s conservatism. He would toss him down the bed, uncaring and impatient, shredding his clothes to nothing, forcing Ryou into submission with his alpha pheromones. Ryou would scream and cry for mercy, but Aomine would remind him of his pathetic place, and take him without any remorse.

Ryou couldn’t bear for that day. It was almost as if Ryou _wanted_ Aomine to have had his wicked way with him the first night so that he wouldn’t sit in anticipated fear anymore. Aomine’s kindness felt like it was _choking_ him.

“Ryou,” he heard from behind him.

He whipped around, surprise evident in his posture. Aomine was standing beneath the archway entrance, skin slick with sweat and shirt discarded to give him some air. Ryou could tell he had been sparring with some soldiers again in the blazing sun. Ryou barely maintained eye contact, already flushing with embarrassment. Looking at Aomine’s bare skin always made him remember things he shouldn’t in the daytime.

He bowed, remembering social convention. “Yes, Aomine-sama! Welcome back.”

Aomine hummed in acknowledgment, glancing at Wakamatsu near Ryou’s desk and giving him a wary glance. Wakamatsu bowed to him as well, albeit begrudgingly, but Aomine was appeased. “What doing?” he questioned, steering his eyes around the entire room and surveying the books nearest him. He didn’t look too impressed by any of it, clearly baffled by it all.

“Ah,” Ryou began, glancing down at the sprawled books over his desk, each one conveying a separate subject from the other. “I was studying the Tououan language.” This he chose to speak in Tououan, figuring he could show the fruits of his work.

Aomine looked impressed by his perfect pronunciation, approaching the desk. He still looked baffled, more than likely confused about Ryou’s fascination with ‘learning.’ Ryou figured it wasn’t exactly his scene and resisted the urge to laugh. “How much can you understand?” Aomine tugged on the book Ryou had been focused on prior to his tea break. At this one, he looked particularly interested, the raise of his blue eyebrows giving him away.

“I understand enough to hold a conversation,” Ryou answered proudly. “Though… it is simple at best.”

“It’s fine. I’m more comfortable speaking like this than speaking Daiichi. The words are too tiring for me to pronounce,” Aomine waved away, shuffling an adjacent chair closer to Ryou’s so he could flip through the book more efficiently. “How’d ya learn so fast?”

Ryou blinked next to him, the closeness to Aomine’s skin making him flower in on himself. “U-um… Momoi-san taught me some words, but I like to speak it, as well. I read the books and learned thereon…” he trailed off, wondering if the words he was saying made any sense at all.

Aomine seemed to understand though, nodding along and paying close attention. “So you learned mostly by yourself? Wow, that’s amazing, Ryou. What the hell?”

Ryou startled at the recognition, feeling his heart pound in his chest. “M-my apologies, but I thank you!”

Aomine laughed, mussing his hair up. “We should speak like this more. I feel less dumb this way.”

“Y-yes! I like to speak like this way, as well!” he exclaimed with a little more excitement than he intended. Aomine just raised his eyebrow, but smirked nonetheless.

“Oi. When you speak, lower your jaw more. It’ll help with pronunciation,” he advised, taking Ryou’s chin in between his index and thumb and maneuvering it in a more natural jaw-lock.

Ryou nodded meekly. “L-like so?”

He shocked himself with the tangible difference. His voice was deeper, and the heavy words came out with more ease. He giggled at how much it resembled Aomine’s gruffness and tried it again, with more intonation in his throat and jaw. “I greatly admire the language of Touou.”

Aomine snorted into his hand. “Yeah, you have the tone down. But you speak like an old man.”

Ryou blushed immediately, covering his face and whimpering into them. “Momoi-san told me, as well! I apologize direly!”

Instead of belittling him like Ryou had expected, Aomine guffawed heartily, but there was no condescension in the way he sounded. Just simple, carefree laughter. “All right. If Satsuki’s too busy to teach ya things, I’ll do it. Ask away, got it? I’ll have you speaking Tououan yet, Ryou,” he promised, the look of determination befitting his blue flames of eyes so well that it made Ryou’s stomach turn to goo.

“Yes! I apologize for any inconvenience, but I will be in your care!”

“Hell yeah,” Aomine smirked, laying his arm across the back of Ryou’s chair. He leaned in closely, lips nearly nicking Ryou’s earlobe. “Besides, I’ll have you screaming my name in Tououan just right.”

Ryou was already ducking his head into the circle of his arms. He wished that he didn’t embarrass so easily, but Aomine seemed to love it when he did, and now that he knew a few of the nuances in the language, the king was efficiently hitting all the buttons that would make Ryou combust in a bright canvas of red.

The days passed on in joyful and productive succession.

Without fail, after each sparring session or military caucus, Aomine would appear underneath the archway of the library, asking Ryou what he was studying about that day and then resolutely taking his self-proclaimed spot near the desk. Ryou would enlighten Aomine on the splendid caricatures he discovered that day, and Aomine would make corrections to his enunciation, complaining about the “old geezer speak” Ryou had perfected.

Momoi would show up on separate occasions, asking what the two were getting so rowdy about, and was pleasantly surprised to find that Ryou was receiving teachings from Aomine. Immediately, she’d jerked a thumb Aomine’s direction, raising a disbelieving eyebrow. “Really? If you learn from this guy, you’ll only speak like a degenerative heathen.”

“Oi,” Aomine had hissed, and Ryou had laughed, hugging the book to his chest.

Ryou began to learn more and more, loving the linguistics of the language and the complicated idioms it possessed. Some of them Aomine didn’t even know about, and Momoi lorded it over his head aggressively. He was not pleased by it.

“I’m your king, Satsuki. The only one who can make fun of me is me,” he’d arrogantly stated.

Momoi had burst into fits of laughter, calling him the “prince of northern tickings,” which roughly translated to “a petulant child who never grows up.”

“I’m a king, dammit, not a prince!” Aomine had growled. He nudged Ryou by the shoulder. “Ryou, what the hell did she mean by that?”

“Why don’t you look it up, you dumb lug?” Momoi had mocked, tossing her hair behind her and upturning her nose.

Ryou feared for her life then. Never had he witnessed anybody leave unscathed insulting an alpha, much less a king, but Momoi got off scotch-free, safe and intact. That’s when Ryou was told that Momoi and Aomine had originally been childhood friends from neighboring nomadic peoples, each from uniquely different cultures that remained tightly xenophobic. 

When they met, they had never seen anybody look so completely different, Aomine with his alien dark skin and blue hair, and Momoi with her unblemished pink skin and pink hair. Neither of them knew about the racial system; only that they liked each other’s company and so rebelled against the social notion that they had to reject the other based on frivolous diversities.

They were adventurous children, wanderers of their respective kingdoms, and so had met through these curious trips. Aomine had been parched from the constant ambling, chasing after cicadas and giant, flying beetles, and Momoi just happened to have water on her person. She’d felt the wanderlust hit her that day, and she followed her instincts, relying on her impressive memory to bring her back home.

At first, Aomine annoyed her with his pompous chatter, ego so bloated by his notorious title and prophesy that it nearly unnerved her to be in his presence. But he was free in spirit and strong in character, doubtless in the face of the unknown. Momoi, on the other hand, was the face of perfect guidance and brought up in a people engrossed with the concept of analysis and self-reflection, humbled and modest.

Although they grew up in separate worlds, they could find middle ground with each other and learn from the other what they didn’t already possess. They became an extension of the other, Momoi as the support for Aomine’s next step forward, and Aomine as the beacon for Momoi to follow.

Eventually, they’d both grown enough to lead their respective kingdoms, and Momoi, knowing that it would be safer to combine, joined her kingdom to his under the condition that she held the vice position to balance the beam. Aomine wasn’t exceptional with political proceedings, so he didn’t give it much thought.

Ever since then, Aomine assimilated the neighboring kingdoms around him, and even more down south, and this current city was one of them. At first, Aomine could amble between kingdoms and explore every which way, but as his administration grew with more dedicated and laudable diplomats, the need for his near and constant vigilance died with it.

“Occasionally,” Momoi had explained to him, sipping on some tea. “He gets this yearnful look in his eyes. When he does, I know it’s because he misses the nomadic lifestyle. He’s never been one to like to settle in one place, sedate and inactive. He loves riding more than anything.” She sighed then, a sad smile gracing her face. “He also misses competition. Truly he longs to find someone that can match him in strength. He searches long and wide for it, and he would do it every day if he could.”

They’d both been watching Aomine spar with his men from the library’s balcony, undefeated and almost confidently bored.

Ryou couldn’t take his eyes away, even if he wanted to.

He wondered what went on in Aomine’s mind as he seamlessly caught his men in headlocks that left them unable to defend, dislodged knives, and disabled those that charged by sidestepping with an eerie assuredness. He wondered if whenever he won whether the king grew even more desperate to find someone who could match his bravado and effortless skill. His bestiality and hunger for victory.

Before, on the night of their bonding, Aomine’s boastful displays of masculinity made him fear for the destruction he could bring to Ryou’s body.

But now that he knew how gentle those fingers could be, how firm and protective those arms were around his waist, hoisting him atop those strong thighs, he couldn’t be anything but exhilarated by it. He bit at his lip, remembering the way their skin slid against each other, the way Aomine would mouth at his bond mark and breathe against it, puffing a grinded ‘Ryou’ in his sensitive ear…

Momoi giggled at his dazed expression. “Should I leave you alone right now?” she asked coyly.

Ryou squealed, his hands coming up to cover his face for the umpteenth time. “No! I’m so sorry you saw that!”

Momoi continued laughing, doubling over.

More than likely alerted by his squawking, Aomine glanced up to their direction, wiping sweat off his brow. He smirked at Ryou in that fiendish, wolfish way he got when he was in the mood, and all Ryou could do was retreat into the confines of the library and sink to the floor in unabashed mortification. Momoi patted him on the back delicately, snickering into her hand still.

“It’s okay, Sakurai-kun. Omegas have it hard, don’t they?” Ryou didn’t even think to comment on the double entendre.

Nights moved along sluggishly.

Aomine would always pester him into another frisky venture, and Ryou was becoming more and more accustomed to them. He prepared himself for Aomine’s lascivious tongue, the way it could devilishly lick a whole strip from the column of his throat down to the very edges of his thighs. The way it would prod into his belly button and mimic the slide of their lengths against each other. His tongue on Ryou’s sensitive nipples, budding to his every suction and lick. His tongue against Ryou’s, mouth so aggressive but soft that Aomine could finish him within those close seconds.

His hands, soothing Ryou’s quivering hips, the calluses driving him crazy with want. He especially loved it when Aomine would lightly scratch at his ribs, thumbing at their slits, and then moving down to massage his ass, spreading it apart and then teasing him at his entrance, coaxing the most sinful sighs from his parched lips.

Ryou didn’t know what to do.

Every drawn-out, tentative moment of their foreplay forced Ryou to reevaluate the nature of sex and what he thought it would always be like. Aomine was visibly annoyed by Ryou’s willingness to abstain, but he never forced Ryou beyond his comfort zone. Although a bit rougher around the edges, Ryou was finally beginning to understand the tidbits of Aomine that everyone thought was fair about him.

That’s why, when he was told that Aomine had bought him a tutor to teach him the ways of the storybook caricatures, Ryou could only profusely apologize and bow enough to break his back. Aomine was confused by the apologies, but nonetheless accepted them, mussing Ryou’s hair into a frenzy. “Oi, just say thank you,” Aomine had gruffly put it.

And Ryou did so tearfully.

He was so sorry for ever thinking Aomine was a thoughtless person who only cared about himself. He would rectify his thinking now more than ever.

Because the tutor wouldn’t arrive until a few more weeks, Ryou busied himself with mastering the basics. Aomine watched him avidly, flipping each of them to and fro and wondering who it was that Ryou drew this time. But Ryou would always insist that they were completely imaginary people.

“Oi, draw me instead. I’m great, aren’t I?” Aomine insisted, but Ryou would just laugh, promising him that he’d do so only when his skills were up to par. “That’s stupid. Your skills are good enough already.”

And then Ryou would blush and practice some more.

The days and nights passed so avidly in uproarious activity, filled with boyish smirks and teasing eyes, passionate lips and dexterous hands, that Ryou could almost forget that Aomine was a ruthless conqueror.

Inevitably, Aomine had to get back on the field, leading his men on another conquest of undefeated victory. Ryou thought he would’ve been more than content without having Aomine around to persuade him into sex, but he felt his heart pinching in his chest and his stomach drop to his feet like a sack too heavy with rocks.

He stood at the gate with Wakamatsu and a few of the servants, the rest of Aomine’s army on standby and already hoisted on their horses. Momoi was at the very back, intended to lead the formation through the city and into uncharted rocky terrain.

Aomine was nearest Ryou, adding artillery to his person, his movements familiar and practiced as he stashed his sword into its scabbard and loaded his belt with other trinkets of weaponry. The ones that Ryou never even saw him use once.

He approached Ryou, confident and empowering even to those around him, commanding and intimidating in his surety. And then he smirked boyishly, and Ryou wondered why he was feeling so at a loss for it already.

He patted him with a heavy hand, a deep frown at the corners of his lips. “Why do you look so scared? Oi.”

“I-I’m sorry…” Ryou couldn’t look him in the eyes. He didn’t know the reason either.

“Heh, I thought you were over being scared. And if you’re scared _for_ me, don’t be. There’s nobody who could ever defeat me. The strongest alpha in this region is none other than me.”

With that, he departed from Ryou with a playful bump from his fist to Ryou’s nose, then climbed atop the mightiest steed out of the entire battalion. A word did not even need to leave his lips. A single sweep of his arm was enough to animate the army, and all of them galloped ahead at a lukewarm pace, their presence staggeringly threatening, and it was all evoked by the man they followed.

Ryou watched with rapt attention and clutched at his chest, wondering why it felt like Aomine took his breath and lungs with him.

All his life, the sight of a retreating alpha’s back gave him a sense of relief, a breath of much needed fresh air. It was another potential danger evaded. But, with Aomine, he only saw the strong back of a warrior general, the pride and hope of his legacy riding on those shoulders.

The scratches Ryou had left on them would barely impede his king, and he could see him boasting about it instead, the marks indicative of the momentary pleasure he undoubtedly erupted within Ryou. Even without his burning gaze or his heated touches, Ryou could feel a cesspool of lava in the pit of his stomach each time Aomine came to mind.

It was the mere mention of him, the very memory of his skin that made Ryou feel like he could sweat his desire out of his system, but it wasn’t enough. He had to get any remnants of Aomine that were left. The scent of him in the sheets. His presence in their room. The indents on Ryou’s skin.

Ryou missed him so much he didn’t know what to do with himself.

Every night, he couldn’t help but to touch himself, so conditioned by Aomine’s addictive ministrations that he’d posture himself on the bed, silken robes entangled with the bedsheets and fanning around his heaving form. He tried to mimic Aomine’s caresses from his murmuring lips, down to his heated throat, his sensitive nipples, pinching them and rolling them between his thumb and forefinger, and down to his bellybutton and thighs, quivering with so much want for contact he could feel his prick drip with pearlescent beads of cum.

He rubbed at his slit, sighing against imaginary lips, stroking with feather-light touches, and wanting so much to not be teased. But Aomine loved it when Ryou squirmed. He wouldn’t give him pleasure if Ryou didn’t explicitly say so. Not until Ryou begged for it, giving him those scratches down the expanse of his strong back, coiled and ready to take him. _Say you want more, Ryou._

“Yes,” he moaned, finally, _finally,_ encircling his dick and giving it the necessary attention that Aomine would give to it. “Aomine-sama, more…”

And Aomine would give it. He’d slick his fingers up with oil, and Ryou could see his impatience with how badly he’d shake sometimes, and he would ask Ryou if it was okay, if tonight could be the night that he finally took all of Ryou, and if Aomine were here right now, skin to skin, eye to eye, Ryou would let him. He would absolutely, breathlessly, _irrevocably_ give it to him.

Instead of his puny fingers, it would be Aomine’s manhood, the very thing that would impregnate him and Ryou _wanted_ him to. He wanted Aomine to punish him for making him wait for so long to be claimed, and his thrusts would be merciless and Ryou would scream. He would scream Aomine’s name the way he wanted. “My king… my Daiki-sama…”

His fingers were unforgiving, fast and purposeful, but they didn’t reach as deeply as Aomine’s did, didn’t make him feel complete in all the right places.

He missed him.

_He missed him, he missed him, he missed him._

And when he came, the pleasure wasn’t fantastic. It wasn’t _good_ like it was with Aomine. It felt like a necessity, a release to abate a natural burden, and the only way he could ever derive the same powerful pleasure was for Aomine to have him, in every sense of the word.

Time ticked on as if it wanted to torture Ryou for ever wanting to deprive his king of his pleasures. He was impatient and antsy, throwing himself into the creative process to stave off any thoughts of Aomine, even throwing himself in the kitchen to make food for himself because his hunger for his mate pervaded other aspects of his life.

The servants were uneasy about him experimenting in the kitchen, but Ryou didn’t even want to apologize. He just _needed_. There was no other word for it.

And so, when Aomine did return, Ryou could barely contain himself. He shook with anticipation, his eyes solely trained on his king, his alpha, his mate, eyeing him avidly as he climbed down the horse, with a strong, easy grace, and then he turned his eyes Ryou’s direction, and all he could do was _want_ and _desire_ and _crave_.

His king smiled, conquering and assimilating all that Ryou was and could be.

“Heh, Ryou,” he began, taking long strides, his strength ever present. Ryou bit his lip, fidgeting with his woolen vest. “I took care of a kingdom near yours. And that castle? It’s yours now. Praise me,” he smirked, and Ryou could hardly contain it anymore.

“Y-yes, Aomine-sama… Thank you…” he tried to say. Aomine looked at him with all the puzzlement in the world, but Ryou forged on, taking a step closer, unafraid and determined.

He was barely an inch from Aomine’s bare chest when he smelled it.

He recoiled instantly, the smell of omegan pheromones so thick that it made him want to gag and vomit. It was more than one, three distinct smells trying to dominate the other, and none of them were _his. None of them were his._

“Ryou?” Aomine questioned, reaching towards him.

Ryou smacked it away, plugging his nose and taking several steps back.

He couldn’t believe it. Not just one omega, but _three_ of them, and all of them were females, the permeating smells so poignantly fruity to the point of sourness that he couldn’t stomach it.

Aomine, disturbed by Ryou’s defiance, deeply frowned and made to hover closer. “What the hell’s wrong, Ryou?”

Ryou couldn’t even think. He didn’t _want_ to think. He hated alphas. _He hated all of them. Especially Aomine._

“Do not touch me,” he hissed. Aomine startled at this, but didn’t move, so surprised by Ryou’s uncharacteristic boldness, his blatant unapologetic aggression, that he couldn’t mouth a word.

Ryou didn’t wait.

He didn’t even know what Aomine’s face looked like. He strode away too quickly to see.


	7. their urges

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sakurai's irritability soars ever higher.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING. THIS CHAPTER IS OVERLY EXPLICIT. Please tread lightly.

Ryou was livid. He had been ever since Aomine returned from his conquest, but for all that, Ryou could care less about it than he would for political jargon. He brought back souvenirs of every sort and kind, the servants gifting them at Ryou’s feet. There were instructional manuals on perfecting caricature characters, made by the most talented of Tououan artists, books that originally came from his homeland of Kirisaki Daiichi, mementos of reptilian bracelets made of gold and shed snake skin, the rarest of its kind, and dried candies he barely remembered eating from his childhood, discontinued except for the most expensive chocolatier in the east; all items truly worth more than a mere two sacks of gold. But with those tangible items too was Aomine’s shamelessness, his betrayal, his most uncouth inconsideration.

Ryou turned all the gifts away, nonplussed and unimpressed. He evaded Aomine at all costs, preferring to sleep in Momoi’s lodging down south, and it brought him much joy to see Aomine’s blooming ire. Beyond Momoi’s door, the king spouted threats upon threats and an endless tirade of confused ramblings and expletives every afternoon.

At first, when Aomine came to Momoi’s door, ranting and raving and apologizing in the best way a king like him knew how, Ryou could almost feel forgiving, reeling from Aomine’s sudden appearance. He never expected to be chased by this one alpha king who never bowed to anyone but his own strength. He’d looked at him through the open windows, Aomine’s outreaching arms close enough to grasp, but the overwhelming stench of all those omegas were ever-present, venomous, deceitful. Ryou had slammed the window into the king’s face without feeling any sort of remorse.

Aomine had been close to shattering the windows at that, but Momoi stopped him before then, mocking his lack of self-control, and the ever-prideful king he was, he stomped back home in a furious rage, muttering petulant threats under his breath. Ryou could care less.

The more time Ryou spent to ruminate on it, the more frustrated he got, and the more frustrated he got, the more his anger seemed to flare, along with the prideful jealousy, painful aches of loss and longing, and the dreadful, heavy pieces of lead collecting at the bottom of his stomach. It was so overwhelming that at times he’d feel nauseous, head spinning from the tireless wondering and fussing and gritting, that he’d retire in his separate quarters of Momoi’s home and lie down, even in broad daylight.

Momoi fretted over his weakening constitution, but he insisted that he was fine and that he was only irritated. Besides which, he knew that she was more amused than anything. The sight of a bratty Aomine stomping around like an overgrown child pleased her beyond belief. She’d laughed at him when he came around for the second time of that particular day, spouting the same arguments of “I’m your king! Come out here and face me!”

She’d sipped on some tea, nearly choking on it. “I don’t know what you did to make him act like that, but keep doing it. He always gets what he wants. Let him sweat some more, Sakurai-kun.”

Ryou had nodded resolutely, but then worried at his lip, another thought coming to his mind. “But… couldn’t he just break the door down?”

“Oh, he could. But he hates forfeiting a challenge. This game will _all_ be up to you.”

And so Ryou continued to play it. Like Momoi had said, Aomine was unerringly stubborn, but the one thing she forgot to account for was how much more stubborn Ryou could be. Ryou was a silent boulder, and he wouldn’t budge no matter what Aomine brought to the table. Day by day, she found him getting bolder and, dare she say, conceited, spurred on by Aomine’s petulance and brattish appearances.

“Ryou, for god’s sake! It was three random whores! If I couldn’t have you, where else could I get it?”

Ryou didn’t deign to reply whatsoever, applying himself to his drawings and blatantly doing so in Momoi’s balcony where Aomine could see him in plain sight. He peered down at him once, but he was already so accustomed to Aomine’s pathetic attempts of reconciliation that he didn’t even care to fear the consequences anymore. He continued drawing and Aomine continued shouting. 

The sight impressed Momoi immensely, and she snickered, wincing at how desperate Aomine was beginning to sound. “Wow, Sakurai-kun. I honestly would’ve never expected this of you. Why are you so adamant on this, anyway?” she inquired innocently.

Ryou pouted, ripping another drawing to shreds and tearing another page of his fetched parchment to begin another piece. Wakamatsu, at his side and always at his beck and call, winced at his erratic movements, at the scritching of his pencil.

He didn’t _care._

He blew at his bangs, growing more irritated with them by the minute. They were too long and they just kept stabbing at his eyes and the Sun was burning a hole through his shirt. It was just too _hot._ He yanked at both, impatient and in dire need of water. He cleared his throat. “He laid… with _three_ other _female_ omegas, Momoi-san,” he gritted through his teeth, the mere mention of it making him irate beyond measure, enough to make him nauseous again. “I’m sorry, but I can’t stand to be around such stench.”

Momoi blinked at him, nervously biting her lip. “But… I mean, he _is_ a king, Sakurai-kun. You can’t possibly expect him to be loyal only to you,” she tried explaining as rationally and gently as she could.

At this, Ryou stood to his feet, the squeal of the wooden chair against the mudbrick floor deafening and alarming. Momoi stayed back, dismayed by the omega’s sudden ferocity, at the sudden onslaught of pheromones he exuded.

Ryou, completely unperturbed, glowered at his paper, his fingers balled so tightly into fists that Momoi swore she could smell the iron of blood. “And why can’t he? He’s my only alpha so I should be his only omega. I’m better than the other omegas,” Ryou mumbled, but Momoi heard all the petulance and competitive undertones just as clearly.

She giggled tensely, his scent making her a shy bit apprehensive. “I’m really surprised, Sakurai-kun. You’re usually not so… confident.”

Ryou began to vibrate with anger, and Momoi worried she greatly offended him. She reached out to pat him on the shoulder, hoping to appease him in any sort of way she could provide, but then she felt the immense heat emanating from his skin.

Her hand immediately recoiled, and she eyed Ryou up and down, sniffing the air around him.

“Sakurai-kun…” she whispered to him, almost afraid of her own deductions. “You smell… different...” She inched herself away from him, the signs all too clear to her now.

His uncharacteristic irritability. His heated skin. The suppleness. The irresistible flush. His luscious scent. _Those succulent lips._

She shook her head out of her alpha mentality, grabbing at his shoulder almost too tightly as she steered him towards Wakamatsu. Ryou flinched at her roughness, but didn’t combat it. “Momoi-san…” he breathed, at a complete loss as to why she was acting the way she was.

Momoi turned away from it, yanking at Wakamatsu’s arms so they could wrap around Ryou’s form. “Wakamatsu-kun, go into that room and lock both of yourselves in there _now_ ,” she ordered, depriving herself from breathing in another lungful.

Wakamatsu didn’t question it further, carrying Ryou into the adjacent room with nary a protest from his master. Ryou only blinked at the two of them, panic setting into his stomach. “What is…” He couldn’t even form the question in his mind, let alone voice it.

Momoi hovered by the door, shaking ever so slightly from the strain. “Sakurai-kun, listen to me carefully. How long have you been feeling the symptoms?”

Ryou felt his heart speed up exponentially, his palms growing clammier. “W-what symptoms?”

“The feverish fog. The irritability underneath your skin. The nauseating impatience. You’ve been feeling it for a while, haven’t you?”

“I don’t understand, Momoi-san… I-I was only angry at Aomine-sama,” he explained, his breaths beginning to come in short staccatos.

Momoi clutched at her forehead, pacing beyond the threshold of the door. “No, Sakurai-kun. Those were the symptoms to your heat approaching. I can’t believe we were all so blind to it. It must’ve been my bond mark preventing me from smelling you too closely, but it’s gotten so concentrated that even with it, I can smell you,” she rambled.

Ryou shook his head, disbelieving. “I-I’m sorry… I don’t understand,” he whimpered, involuntary tremors beginning to wrack his body in torrents, coaxing shocked gasps and moans from his mouth. Wakamatsu held to him strongly, fanning at his face with the parchment he’d had earlier.

Momoi chewed on her nails, grappling at the door with a vice grip. “We don’t have much time, Sakurai-kun. Based on my deductions, you’ll be hitting the first stage, and the pain will only intensify as you move along.”

Ryou gulped, his hands clutching to Wakamatsu’s wrists and struggling to maintain his posture. “W-what do I do, Momoi-san?”

Momoi steered her eyes away from him. “This could go one of two ways, Sakurai-kun,” she forewarned, using the door as a temporary barrier with but a sliver of a crack allowing her voice to filter through. “Wakamatsu-kun is a beta, so he won’t be affected by your pheromones and he can protect you from anybody else who might come to disturb you. I’ll make sure no one gets in from the outside and you can deal with this by yourself, but it’ll be extremely painful, Sakurai-kun.”

Ryou nodded stiffly, using Wakamatsu as an anchor as his knees finally gave out from under him and he tumbled forward. Wakamatsu held onto his waist, worry etched in his brows but desperately wanting to alleviate any discomfort.

“But that bond mark… _He’s_ probably already felt the change in the air. Sakurai-kun, Aomine-kun can ma-,”

“No!” Ryou cried, shaking his head vehemently. “Anyone but him!” He shoved away from Wakamatsu, crashing to the floor and clinging to it as he crawled to Momoi, another wave of the heat compounding throughout his body and making him nearly collapse from the rapidity with which it overtook him. “Momoi-san… Please…” he begged, tears already beading at the corners of his eyes from the pinprick needles of pain blossoming in his stomach. At the unexpected desperation it awoke within him. He reached out towards her, his arm wobbling in the air. “Momoi-san, you have… to be the one to help me… Please, _alpha…_ ”

“Sakurai-kun!” she hissed, staying her place behind the door and dangerously scared of how tempted she was to take him this instant. “Aomine-kun would kill _even me_ if I so much as laid my hands on you. Our bond marks would also prevent me from penetrating you at all. You’d only hurt from it. Aomine-kun is the only--,”

Ryou growled with great discomfort, folding in on himself and hugging around his stomach. Wakamatsu was immediately by his side, draping Ryou’s body over his lap and trying to soothe the aches near his hips. “W-Wakamatsu-san…” Ryou gritted out, grasping at his elbow.

“Sakurai-sama. I know I don’t know much about omegan heats, but let me try to help you,” he insisted.

Ryou’s tears began to free-fall, the discomfort growing to the point of dulled pain that erupted in hot flashes at the slightest of movements. “I-it’s too hot… Please take this robe off me,” he pleaded, clumsily going for his buttons. Wakamatsu seemed to hesitate, but conceded, the desperateness in his master forcing his hand. He swiftly divested Ryou of his robes, having them loosely drape around his form to salvage whatever he could of Ryou’s dignity. 

“Please, Sakurai-kun,” Momoi insisted, still cowering behind the door. “You _have_ to let Aomine-kun mate you. It’s the only way for the pain to go away! Otherwise, you’ll have to endure it for two days by yourself, and you could only die from such suffering!”

“No! Please…” Ryou sobbed, hiccupping into his hands. “Aomine-sama… He’ll see how weak I am… He won’t want me like those other omegas,” he cried, the pain coming from a completely different source. Everything was aching and creaking, and all it wanted was for Aomine to come and salve the pain in his stomach, the itch beneath his skin, the heat behind his eyes.

But the thought of Aomine also gave him pain beyond compare, a hurt so deep that it transcended the physical. How could he ever believe for an instant that he, out of all omegas in this kingdom, could capture this king’s heart? This king who showed him such unpayable kindness and restraint, who provided him solace and comfort when all he was ever dealt in life was unbearable ruthlessness? Aomine was too good for somebody so lowly and shameful as him. He was simply _filthy. Worthless. Undesirable._

Who was he to demand that Aomine couldn’t lie with anyone else? Aomine despised this marriage, but he found pity for Ryou and saw something worth saving, and Ryou failed to give back in spades. He asked for too much. He was a disgusting, burdensome omega, and all he was good for was as an incubator for an alpha’s child. It didn’t matter that Aomine married him. It didn’t matter that they warmed the bed together when they could only sleep apart. It didn’t matter that Aomine would ruffle his hair with that rough hand of his and smile down at him like he was the world encased in one insignificant omega.

_It didn’t matter._

It was too late to realize how valiant of an alpha Aomine was. It was too late to realize that the clenching in his heart whenever he saw Aomine’s face wasn’t because he was terrified of what could be done to him, but rather of how terrified he would be if Aomine ever decided to throw him away.

And that was it.

Before he even knew it, he loved Aomine Daiki even when he didn’t deserve to. He loved him so much that he could barely stand it, enough to make him go crazy. He loved Aomine’s smoldering eyes, his confident smirk, his protective arms, his indomitable strength, his commanding grace, and even his persistent arrogance, his perverted tendencies, and his active laziness. His everything. _Ryou wanted for his everything._

_His pure, undivided everything._

Ryou moaned into Wakamatsu’s vest, the tremors violent and throbbing with a vengeance, but all he could think about was his sole desire to see Aomine. _He wanted to see him so badly._

Wakamatsu stroked his heated cheeks, trying to soothe his pounding headaches, but Ryou knew deep down that nothing would stop this swirling pain but one person. He only _wanted_ one person. “Daiki-sama…”

The simple utterance of his name seemed to ease the pain.

Wakamatsu was kicked away from his person.

Ryou felt himself tumble to the ground in a massive heap, but he couldn’t feel anything. Didn’t even hear Wakamatsu’s collision with the wall, the way that his bones cracked and dislocated, his painful cries. All sight and sound was blurred, but the arms that picked him up weren’t. They were warm, gentle and calming, and Ryou could bask in them all day. The chest he leaned against was warm, too.

He didn’t know who this was, but he desperately wished for it to be Aomine. A few tears streaked down his face, the remembrance of him causing his heart to ache. “Daiki-sama…” he murmured weakly. He felt a warm hand ruffle through his tousled locks, tender but firm, and he leaned towards it as a flower would to its Sun.

A forehead touched his, and a familiar breath ghosted over his lips. “Ryou...” it gruffed, and the agony slowly began to lift.

He was carried for a while, the journey silent but therapeutic, and Ryou clung. He’d never clung so tightly to anything before. And then he was laid upon a sheeted mattress, gingerly settled and carefully maneuvered.

The room was cast in shadow, and he could make out the moonlight filtering in through a nearby window, but he couldn’t tell which direction it was. He could only sense the soft, silken sheets, the chirping of the cicadas, the scent of lavender, the hovering body over his, all hyper-tuned.

Ryou looked upon his savior’s face, this savior who pumped him full of calming pheromones, and couldn’t help the smile that formed on his lips. His savior looked just like his king. He stroked at his cheeks, relief flooding him. “You look just like Daiki-sama… I’m sorry but please grant my request… Please be him for only one night…”

His savior chuckled, flicking him lightly on the forehead. “Stupid,” he drawled in that lazy baritone Ryou could only recognize on one person. “Speak Tououan. I have no idea what you just said.”

Ryou could only giggle.

Because this was his king. This was _his_ Aomine, complete with the brashness and idle drawl. He shook his head in lighthearted disbelief, caressing the sides of Aomine’s face and wondering why it took him so long to realize how deeply his feelings ran. He tugged Aomine close, until they were chest to chest, and stole himself a kiss, and then another, and another, his heart aching for what he’d longed for in weeks. Ryou kissed him languidly, running fingers through Aomine’s blue hair, admiring how it brushed against his skin, and wishing that he didn’t ever have to breathe again so that the need to pull away didn’t have to be inevitable.

Aomine discarded Ryou’s robes, impatient and rough, tossing it to the floor alongside his pants and belt. He widened Ryou’s supple legs, stroking his thighs before gently massaging at his balls. Ryou moaned against his tongue, raising his hips.

He drifted lower, circling his entrance with a tentative thumb, finding it profusely wet and dripping. He growled against Ryou’s bond mark, almost shaking with intensity as he tugged on his omega’s hips to flush against his. He grinded against Ryou’s heat, rubbing the head of his cock in the juncture between Ryou’s twitching want and dripping prick, coaxing sweet sighs from his omega’ lips. With his last remaining sliver of restraint, his final act of gentleness, he gave Ryou the choice once more.

“No?” he asked.

Ryou, body so bloated with desire, sweating with need and shaking with his want, said a breathless “Yes.”

Aomine plunged into Ryou’s body, and Ryou screamed, clutching desperately at Aomine’s shoulders and crying out at the insurmountable stretch. _It was too much to bear, but it felt so good._ Aomine gave him no mercy, thrusting with heavy vigor and strength, and he could feel him fill all his spaces, could feel him reach so deeply in his skin that his womb wept at the precision and the virility.  “Daiki-sama!” Ryou moaned repeatedly, grasping at what little sanity Aomine hadn’t viciously fucked out of him yet.

His alpha tore into him, grasping at his ass, so impatient that he tugged at Ryou’s arms, the sheer strength of his arms bouncing Ryou on his lap, and wrenching out the sweetest sounds from Ryou’s mouth.

Aomine shoved out of Ryou’s heat, flipping him to his stomach and propped Ryou to his knees. He slowly eased himself in, filling Ryou up inch by sensitive inch, engrossed and enlivened as he watched his thick cock slowly be swallowed by Ryou’s little pink hole, and then pulled out just as slowly before his patience snapped and he was slamming back home. He grasped at Ryou’s hips with both hands, yanking the omega’s hips back to his groin, reducing Ryou to mere useless bones and skin.

Aomine squeezed at the omega’s stomach so that Ryou could feel his cock penetrate him that deeply, to the point of burning pain, and all Ryou could do was arch his back against his strength and whimper helplessly. He humped against the thrusts, but Aomine was adamant on maintaining the brutal pace.

The room was filled with the obscene, sticky sounds of their intimate and filthy fucking and Ryou could only _want_ , want for Aomine to cum inside him until there was no room left, to be impregnated and have his belly grow to house his king’s seed. To have _their_ child budding inside him.

Aomine angled Ryou’s hips, riveted with how his dick was effortlessly and tightly devoured, so wet that long strings of Ryou’s slick dribbled to the sheets. “Daiki-sama…” Ryou, with his last shred of coherency, pleaded. “Inside me… Please cum inside…” He tugged at his ass cheek, giving Aomine full view of their raw, sticky connection, his cock throbbing and Ryou’s flesh unquenchable.

Aomine felt his spine prickle at the sight. He wrapped his hand around Ryou’s neck, bringing their bodies flush against the other as he used the angle to his advantage, the omega’s body shaking from the strain; used the angle to pump as deeply as he could against Ryou’s wanting, fertile womb. The pace was less brutal, but his thrusts were so much deeper, reaching Ryou at his most intimate and dominating all aspect of him.

He took Ryou tirelessly. Deeply. _Possessively._  

He claimed him against the wall, hefting Ryou’s weight atop his thighs as he grasped at Ryou’s ass, forcefully bouncing the omega on his cock and swallowing his wanton moans, and then again in the bath, Ryou’s shrieks of ecstasy echoing around the space.

He released load after load of hot cum into Ryou’s thirsting body, filling him to the brim over and over, so much so that Ryou was full from it, his seed oozing from his ass. When this would happen, Aomine would stuff whatever would spill back into Ryou’s aching hole, and Ryou would consume his fingers just as much as it would his cock, gasping for it, and then he’d have to take him again, for as long as it took.

And when he thought he could find respite in a nap, he’d wake to a Ryou massaging his dick back to life, using both hands to soothe over the swell of his glans, unapologetic and hungering for him again, and Aomine reciprocated in spades.

He fucked Ryou till the boy couldn’t even stand, and it stroked his pride and ego just as well as Ryou’s velveteen walls did. It pleasured him to see Ryou unable to walk away from his bedside. It pleasured him to see Ryou so bloated with his cum that the omega’s hole ached in fiery heat. It pleasured the alpha in him to know that Ryou was _his_ , the sole ownership he had over him evident from the bruises on his hips, the bites around his neck, his pretty nipples. Soon, Ryou would be budding with the seed he’d planted in his belly, and he preened at the notion.

_They would have a child and Ryou would bear it for them._

When the haze temporarily faded, he and Ryou having bathed already and calming down from their last desperate fucking, Ryou gathered some of his senses before they fled in heated haste, and he flushed brighter than any sunset Aomine could ever hope to witness. “Forgive me that you have to carry me everywhere! Forgive me that I’m burdensome!” he cried in that needlessly formal way of his, and Aomine just sighed, bopping a gentle fist on his sandy brown hair.

“Oi. What are you saying after all this time? I’m the one that lost.”

Ryou only blinked up at him, complete confusion plastered all over his face.

Aomine scratched at his hair, visibly uncomfortable. “We ended up doing it before you gave me your full yes. Damn, that pisses me off,” he tsked, reclining against the bedpost and tugging Ryou’s body with him.

“My… full yes?” Ryou questioned.

“Yes, dammit! I wasn’t able to sex you up before you went into heat and shit.”

Ryou blushed again, twiddling with his thumbs as he laid his cheek against Aomine’s chest. “But, you could’ve just… t-taken me before I had my heat…”

Aomine frowned. “And force you into it? Hmph,” he scoffed. “I always win, but I never cheat.”

He eyed Ryou with raw intensity, gently easing him back onto the bed before repositioning himself between Ryou’s legs, stroking his thighs and loving the sigh it evoked from his omega’s lips. “Well, whatever. You’re mine now, Ryou,” Aomine murmured against the spiral of his ear.

Ryou felt goose flesh rise all over his arms and legs. He swallowed his last breath, readying himself for his king’s cock, feeling himself already growing impatient with need, growing wetter.  “Yes,” he conceded. “I am all yours, Daiki-sama. And you… A-are you mine?”

Aomine smirked, catching his lips in a passionate but unexpectedly chaste peck. “What kind of question is that?”

Ryou stiffened, feeling a nail embed itself into his heart. Aomine immediately went to smooth the crease between his eyebrows, easing himself into Ryou and eliciting a delicious moan before Ryou could second-guess it any more. “Stuuuupid. I’m yours,” he hummed against his lips, fucking into him slowly.  “That goes without saying.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told you it'd be explicit. It's so explicit I couldn't even proofread it *squees* I'm sorry if it was terrible. I haven't written porn in ages.


	8. the tutor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sakurai receives teachings on how to pleasure his king and mate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hello and happy new year to all!~ 
> 
> I finally got over my first semester of uni. The spring semester has just begin, but I'm back at it again with some sporadic updates hahahaha
> 
> WARNING: this chapter has some SLIGHT infidelity. I don't think it's too bad, but well, ya know, it's still there, I'm not gonna lie lol

Ryou bowed his head repeatedly.

“I’m so sorry! Please forgive me!” he cried with more than a little hint of desperation. If it weren’t for Momoi’s intervention, he’d already be on the ground groveling for mercy, but as it stood, this was the best he could manage without “sabotaging his kingly dignity,” as she had so eloquently put it.

Wakamatsu, who had been relaxing on his bed and nursing a few broken ribs, looked appalled at Ryou’s display, unable to get in a word edge-wise since Ryou had stepped into his squalid quarters. He looked to Momoi for any sort of assistance, but she merely shrugged at him.

“M-my king--,” Wakamatsu started once more.

“No, I’m really sorry, Wakamatsu-san! If there’s anything I can do to alleviate your pain, I will gladly do it!” Ryou squawked, already on the verge of tears.

Momoi giggled tensely behind him, postured near the door. “Maa, maa, Sakurai-kun,” she began, choosing her words as wisely as she could. “I don’t think there’s a need to prostrate yourself like this. Wakamatsu-kun knows this isn’t your fault.”

Ryou sniffled, glancing up at her and fiddling with his thumbs, very unbelieving. “But… I feel slightly responsible.”

Wakamatsu shook his head. “No, your majesty. It was I who was wholly responsible.” He made to sit up slightly taller, and then flinched when that pulled at the skin near his wound. Ryou was immediately at his side, clutching at his shoulders gently. “I’m quite all right, Sakurai-sama,” he muttered softly, the slight wheeze in his voice betraying his wellness.

“I’m…” Ryou began, welling with tears again.

“I promise I’m _fine_ ,” Wakamatsu tried to soothe, patting at Ryou’s hands so that he could be released. Ryou hesitantly acquiesced as Wakamatsu adjusted himself once more. He finally got himself in a more comfortable position and cleared his throat. “You were… not in your right state of mind, Sakurai-sama.” He didn’t dare to look in Ryou’s eyes because it would only make the recollection of those events more vivid for him and he didn’t want to make Ryou anymore sorry than he already was by making him uncomfortable. “I thought I was doing the right thing… by offering my assistance, but… as your mate reacted, it was out of place for me to have done so. Forgive me.” Wakamatsu bowed his head the furthest it would go in his current predicament, straining against the bandages and hoping that Ryou would still see the sincerity behind his words.

Without even skipping a beat, Ryou waved his concerns away, and wiped at a beading tear near his eye, jolting him. “There’s nothing to forgive, Wakamatsu-san. I should’ve paid attention to myself more and made sure not to put anyone in harm’s way.”

Momoi sighed, foregoing staying away from the scene and finding that she had to interject in the end after all. She patted Ryou on the head like a sister would to a misguided younger brother. “Really, Sakurai-kun, you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself. That was your first heat ever and there was no way you could’ve dealt with that on your own, let alone notice the symptoms. If anything, you should be glad that Aomine-kun went so easy on him.”

At this, Ryou immediately bristled, fear blossoming like a contagion on his face. “E-easy?” he gulped. Wakamatsu looked baffled and slightly offended himself.

Momoi laughed. “Oooh, yeah. He could’ve done way worse to you, Wakamatsu-kun. I know it because he almost broke even _my_ wrist when he came barging in through the door.” When she sees Ryou already readying himself to apologize to her, she bops him on the head. “Stop it. He didn’t pull through with it. I think he still had some semblance of himself at that point. As for why he just barreled into Wakamatsu-kun, I think it was probably the best his hormone-addled mind could think of that would do the most minimal harm, especially for Sakurai-kun.”

Wakamatsu glanced down at his lap bundled in layers of blankets, all courtesy of Ryou’s fussing, piecing the events together. “Now that I’m thinking back on it, he did stand to ponder at the door before flinging his person at me.”

Momoi nodded her head in agreement. “Exactly. So, you see, Sakurai-kun. This was the best alternative to any other outcome. Wakamatsu-kun could’ve lost his life that night, y’know?”

Ryou looked saddened at this realization, but resigned to nodding his head as well. Momoi felt the tiniest sliver of sympathy for him, understanding that Ryou, out of any other person she’s ever known, was the type who’d never wish harm upon even the cruelest of dictators. Even towards an older step-brother who nearly sold him off into a life of slavery, if not for how magnanimous a human being Aomine was.

She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Sakurai-kun, no one blames you for any of this. If anything, you shouldn’t be apologizing on behalf of your king’s actions. He should be the one stating it like it is.”

Ryou nodded his head again, but the stern look on his face told Momoi that he wasn’t completely convinced. “I understand what you’re saying, Momoi-san, but it’s not the matter of Aomine-sama apologizing for what happened that needs saying. It’s the fact that my friend got hurt.”

Momoi and Wakamatsu both stared at him, astounded.

After affirming with a glance in Momoi’s eyes that, yes, their king was way too pure and just in this unforgiving world, Wakamatsu cleared his throat again to speak. “Your concern for me is undeserved, your majesty. But all the same, if it will alleviate your pain, I forgive you. But, I still stand of the opinion that you are faultless in this entire situation.”

Although not completely what Ryou wanted out of his apology, he figured this was the best he was going to get out of his guard and bowed his head once more, beaming with so much lightness that Momoi and Wakamatsu felt like they shouldn’t be privy to such wholesomeness.

“Thank you, Wakamatsu-san. I’ll make sure that something like this never happens again.”

Wakamatsu holds him to it.

*

“So,” Momoi began with the slightest of conspiratorial tones. Ryou glanced up at her through his lashes, completely unaware of where she planned to take this conversation. “How was your first heat with our great and powerful king?” She winked at him to amplify the question’s effect. As intended, Ryou exploded in a plume of red, and all she got instead of blubbering nonsense was astonished silence.

She waited for him to compose himself. This was a very private subject, after all, especially one made walking down the corridors from the soldiers’ barracks, but she simply couldn’t wait anymore.

Ever since Aomine had barged into her home, fleeing to tend to his mate’s needs, it had all been a blurry vision to her. She could vaguely remember the temptation receding from her veins as Aomine pumped the room full of his hormones to alleviate Ryou’s pain, and then blinking out of her daze to find Wakamatsu heavily bleeding on the floor.

She had immediately taken to his side, hoisting him as gingerly as she could on her back, and then tried her best to maintain her balance to nurse his injury. She’d left her temporary home to the couple, already knowing that they had no choice but to make it their nesting area to calm Ryou’s condition. Knowing that it would be a red zone choked in a miasma of intermingling hormones soon, she made it her goal that day to find a different lodging, preferably in the north this time around.

It had been a hectic day for all of them, but nothing compared to what Ryou probably experienced within that week being cooped up in a home only intended for bedding.

Upon returning, Momoi expected to find a Ryou exhausted and bloated beyond compare, so unenthused with the goings-on of life that he would turn any visitor away for another good week. Instead, she found him calm with determination—with a fire in his eyes that Momoi had never even known existed in such depths. She might have guessed that he had a smoldering ember in there somewhere, nearly stomped out at the mercy of his step-brother, but this was a burning inferno. Ryou seemed to have found his purpose, and it made him bolder.

 _Had it been Aomine’s lechery that was the catalyst? Was it the sex that kept it fueled? Was it a confession of some sort?_ She had no way of knowing, but she was hell-bent on finding out.

When she focused on Ryou again, he was still a ticking bomb, silent on the outside, but a mesh of messes within. She decided to help him out a bit, rephrasing her question. “Oh, don’t be shy now, Sakurai-kun. Tell me about it! Did you at least enjoy yourself?”

Ryou’s lips closed, clamped to a thin line. He looked even more embarrassed than before.

Momoi reconfigured her tactics, and decided she was going to have to play it dirty if she wanted to get any admission out of him. “Aww, come on, Sakurai-kun. Aren’t we friends?”

That seemed to trigger some sort of release in Ryou, his slumping shoulders a great indication of his resignation to the situation. He fiddled with his thumbs again, glancing up at her timidly.

“Um…” he slowly began. “It was… very good,” he whispered.

Momoi bumped her hip against his good-naturedly. “Mm-hm, and what else?” she goaded.

“I… I was very glad that he wasn’t gentle with me,” he admitted, his voice dying out towards the end in breathless stammers.

Momoi raised her eyebrows, impressed. “Oh, so Sakurai-kun likes it rough?” she giggled.

Ryou blushed again, covering his face and helplessly whimpering into his hands. “I-I’m sorry but I just… I really liked that he was finally able to show how he liked it best… with me…” he trailed off again.

“What do you mean by that?”

Ryou bit his lip. “Well, before my heat, Aomine-sama took everything slow and was very courteous and considerate towards me whenever we partook in… _that._ ”

“You mean sex.”

“Yes… _that._ ”

“Okay, go on.”

“I won’t lie… I liked it when he was gentle with me, but I always knew he was holding back to not scare me off.”

Momoi giggled into her hands. “Well, of course. You were always so skittish, there was no way he could’ve ever been as kinky as he probably was during your heat!” she brought to mind.

“I-I know that now, but I didn’t quite know it then. But, the fact that he wasn’t gentle with me and did as he liked…” Ryou’s eyes seemed to stray from the conversation, his blush telling of a recollection that Momoi did not want to imagine included Aomine in it. “I think it spoke volumes of how much he believes I trust in him now… how I fear him even less now,” he concluded, accompanied by the most blissful and dreamy sigh that Momoi forced herself not to gag.

Instead, she focused on the goofy expression on his face and laughed. “Well, I’m glad that your heat was well-spent then. I wish I could say the same about my mate’s first time.”

Ryou spun around on her, surprise clear in his eyes. “You have a mate, Momoi-san?”

“Oh, yes,” she affirmed. “We’ve been wed for three years. Recently, I haven’t been able to see her as much because of Aomine-kun’s poor management skills, but I’ll be seeing her again within a month or so.” She peered down at her hand where her ring twinkled in the light, hard-pressed not to begin rotating it on her finger.

Ryou looked down to his feet, appearing to be sorry again. “That must be painful… not being able to see each other for that long.”

Momoi is reminded that Ryou had recently just experienced being away from Aomine for a month or so. What is she ever going to do with these lovebirds from now on, she wonders.

“It becomes more palatable after some time. But, I will admit it’s still just as hard to leave her after seeing her,” she sighs.

Ryou nodded in understanding. “Is she an omega?” he inquired innocently.

“Mm-hm. One of the strongest omegas I know!”

She could almost laugh again at how Ryou’s eyes seemed to sparkle at this. “What’s her animal?”

“She’s actually a rabbit like you.” Momoi began squealing into her hands, imagining her beloved and growing ever more excited. “She’s so cute! The cutest omega! I would love for you to meet her one day, Sakurai-kun.”

Ryou beamed at this and nodded vigorously. “I would love to!”

“Oh, but enough about that,” she waved away. “Let’s talk about you and Aomine-kun again. I’ll grow to miss her even more if we keep talking about her.”

“Ah, okay. Well, what would you like to know?”

They both stopped near the corridor and veered to the right where the sunlight was at its brightest, shining through the open windows. Momoi gestured to the gardens nearby, and Ryou followed with nary a protest. They sat themselves on the marble benches outlooking blooming spring flowers.

“Hmm,” Momoi hummed in thought after pondering for some time. “Can I assume that you guys are reconciled now?”

Ryou began fiddling with his thumbs again.

“He told me that he was mine… and that I was his.”

Momoi cocked her head at this, baffled by Ryou’s rather uncertain tone. “Isn’t that a good thing?”

Ryou hummed in agreement, but the look of worry on his face didn’t disappear. “It’s good. It’s just that…”

Momoi waited for him to gather his thoughts, soothing at his back. She didn’t like where this felt it was like going.

“Up till my heat ended, Aomine-sama tended to my every need and didn’t complain about any of my selfish requests. He was very tender, and even held me close when the deed was said and done.”

“Haha, Sakurai-kun, that’s typical between people that love each other, y’know?”

Ryou startled at this. “L-love?” he squeaked, disbelieving.

“Mm. You don’t love each other?”

Ryou exploded in red again. “T-that’s not to s-say that I _don’t_ love Aomine-sama, but such proclamations—I can’t help but fathom—I’m sorry!” He bowed his head in apology, and Momoi moved to quickly assuage his doubts once more.

“Sakurai-kun! It’s okay! Maybe the feelings haven’t quite caught up yet, but I assure you that those feelings do exist between the both of you,” she attempted to convince him. Ryou’s worries seemed to dissipate if only for a moment, now replaced with an expression so unsure and downhearted that it tugged at the back of her throat for a second. “Sakurai-kun?”

Ryou, having realized that he was making this particular expression, wiped it off and smiled tensely. “Oh, sorry, Momoi-san. I didn’t mean to worry you. I know deep down that… there are feelings that can’t be avoided any longer between Aomine-sama and I. I know this… yet, I’m still uncertain.”

Momoi quirked her lips. “Why so?”

“Like I said, Aomine-sama has been nothing but kind to me ever since the heat. But, after everything, he’s seemed so distant lately.”

Momoi had to stop and think for a moment. This was a Ryou that had never felt acceptance from alphas before, and now that he was finally getting that and more, maybe he felt the sudden absence of his preferred alpha to be a sign of abandonment once more. She waved her hand good-naturedly. “I’m sure he’s just busy with his military duties. He _did_ take a whole week off unannounced.”

“I thought about this, too. But, it’s just weird. Prior to the heat, Aomine-sama was always quite… active, despite being busy.”

Momoi resisted the urge to slap her forehead. That Aomine sure was a sleazy one, no matter how the dice rolled. “So, by distant, you mean you guys haven’t had sex in over a week?”

Ryou, without the slightest hint of embarrassment now, nodded vigorously. “Yes. It’s worrying.”

Momoi just laughed again. Today was full of those with Ryou. “Sakurai-kun, I assure you, Aomine-kun’s probably just having a lot to deal with. If you want to lay with him so badly, why not just ask him?”

That moment of shamelessness was seemingly temporary. Ryou burst into a pile of flames again and Momoi just laughed and laughed.

They continued on in this fashion for a while, discussing the mildest of subjects until Momoi felt the need to tease him again and Ryou just blathered on mindlessly until he could find the words. From what she gathered, Ryou was finally growing into a person of his own making, one not influenced by an evil step-brother, and one not restricted by the biology that seemed synonymous to slavery in this world of theirs. Ryou was simply a boy learning to fall in love and be loved in return, and Momoi couldn’t wait to see how that would transform him.

Soon enough, Ryou was fetched by one of the servants for his afternoon lessons with the new tutor Aomine had hired for him. That poor sap had come from the kingdom of Yosen, a trip amounting up to five days if one had good horses. Upon arrival, he had been expected to begin his lessons immediately, but due to Ryou’s heat, it was pushed back for two weeks.

Luckily, the tutor was understanding.

She wished Ryou luck on his newfound passion, and decided to make most of her day by checking up on the lug that ignited pure Ryou’s transformation.

*

Ryou was very nervous to meet his new tutor. From what he’d heard, the poor man had waited two whole weeks to meet his student with nothing to fill up his time but eat and sleep. He already made it his goal to apologize as avidly as he could upon arrival. That had been the goal he set in mind—but, the moment he crossed the threshold into the library, the sight that met him stopped him in his tracks and he was left breathless.

There, with the doors spread open and standing upon the balcony was the most breathtaking man he had ever had the pleasure of seeing. He was painting a very convoluted yet simple caricature of a man that looked vaguely familiar to him, but couldn’t quite name, his strokes light but assured with purpose. He had the most serene look on his face, the wind licking at his ebony locks, the strands kissing at his cheeks. Upon noticing him, the man set his eyes on Ryou, and it was the greyest of eyes accentuated by a beauty mark.

“Hello.” Even his voice was smoother and richer than molasses.

“H-hello,” Ryou was able to provide.

The man set his brush down on a table propped at his side, smoothing his apron down. “Might you be Sakurai Ryou-sama?”

“Y-yes, I am!” Forgetting decorum in the Tououan kingdom once again, Ryou bowed first instead of awaiting the adjacent party’s respect. This caused his tutor to chuckle.

“It was right what they said about you. You’re quite charming. But, pardon my manners. My name is Himuro Tatsuya, and I’m second king to the Yosen kingdom, home of the bears. Pleased to meet you, your majesty.” Himuro bowed deeply and Ryou could only stutter.

“Y-you’re a king, Himuro-sama?” he exclaimed.

Himuro shook his head. “Oh, please, no formalities like those. Which reminds me, may I call you Ryou-sama for short? I find that it’s easier to teach my students when barriers are knocked down a little.”

Ryou blinked at him in wonderment. “Y-yes, of course, but I couldn’t possibly call you anything less than you are, H-Himur--,”

Himuro shushed him with a dainty finger to his lips. “No, no, Ryou-sama. This is your domain and you need to state it so. If it were my land, I’d surely permit it, even if I might not like it, but that’s just how etiquette works, ne?” Ryou just blinked at him some more. Himuro couldn’t help but giggle at the sight. This king was quite too cute. “Besides, as I stated, I’m only the second king. My mate is the first and true king of Yosen.”

As Himuro made to go back to his station, Ryou followed, albeit hesitantly. He didn’t know how much closer he could get to somebody that looked so radiant. “Pardon me for asking, but if you _are_ the second king, why would you take on a job like this?”

Himuro picked his brush up again, dipping it into red, blue, and white, almost mechanic in fashion and belying a sense of repetitiveness and practice. He gave Ryou a mirthful stare. “Are you suggesting that my work is lowly, Ryou-sama?”

Ryou instantly bristled. “N-no, I would—would never suggest such--,”

Himuro laughed, patting Ryou lightly on the cheek. “You’re very cute, your majesty. I apologize for teasing you so much. I hope that doesn’t displease you.”

Ryou found himself blinking in awe again. Himuro seemed to have such a lightheartedness about him that amplified his attractiveness. He could be citing the most murderous of texts and Ryou would probably thank him for it.

“If you’re really curious, I gave up this type of work a long time ago. But, your mate was very adamant on finding the most talented caricature artist, and being close friends with my mate and knowing of my expertise, he gave me an offer I couldn’t quite refuse.” Himuro chuckled at the remembrance.

“An offer you couldn’t refuse?” Ryou inquired.

“Mm-hm. It was a request done out of love. How could I refuse that?” He pulled at Ryou’s cheek lightly, almost infantilizing Ryou’s meek appearance, but Ryou found he didn’t quite mind it. As he said before, Himuro had a way of making everything seem like a budding rose in the dead of winter.

Himuro swiped a line of pastel purple on the canvas. “His description of you might have also helped his case a bit more.” He accentuated this with a wink. Ryou felt his cheeks burn.

“I-I hope he only spoke of good things.”

“Oh, yes, all good things, your majesty. He spoke of your great feats and tenacity.”

“F-feats? Tenacity?” Ryou couldn’t fathom such things. _What in the world was Aomine saying about him?_

Himuro giggled again, and it was such a light twinkle. Ryou would’ve swooned if it didn’t feel like betrayal on Aomine’s part.

“That precious look on your face tells me you don’t have much confidence in yourself. It also tells me that you don’t have any clue as to the power you possess over your king.”

“I-I don’t have power over--,”

Himuro stilled his lips with a lone finger again. “Ryou-sama, you are very cherished. Of that, you can be certain.” At the bag near his foot, he began to rifle for another brush, and upon finding it, proffered it for Ryou to take. Ryou took it from him, careful not to scrape their skins together. It almost seemed like Himuro was too unreal to touch.

“Hmm, but more on this later. I assume you’d like to have your lesson soon?”

Ryou nodded. “Yes! Please take care of me!”

“It would be my pleasure,” Himuro smiled. And so began Ryou’s first lesson.

In association to every other aspect of Himuro, his teachings were also easy to follow and his critiques were well-timed, purposeful, and sensitive. It spoke of years of practice and effort, and Ryou couldn’t help but to take everything to heart.

His days were well spent with Himuro as they bonded over the drawings. Himuro would begin the lessons with readings on the mechanical aspects of the caricatures, and then they’d explore the creative parts together, weaving stories in there every now and then. Ryou grew to love trading such time with somebody so talented and accomplished.

Sometimes, Momoi would visit and peer over the work process, making Ryou feel a slight hint of anxiety over being watched, but as he grew more engrossed, the buzzing around him turned into white noise and the only thing he could focus on was the picture emerging on the canvas.

It was a productive week, but a week worth having all the same.

Occasionally, Ryou would feel that familiar tug at his heart, that sense of loss halting him in whatever activity he was doing. He missed Aomine’s presence dreadfully at times.

For the past few weeks, Aomine had drowned himself in paperwork and military formation. Rarely did he ever make an appearance in the library anymore, and whenever he _did_ see Ryou in the bedroom, he’d only greet him with a kiss to the forehead and then make preparations to go to bed.

Granted, Aomine clung to him as they slept, but no other sense of intimacy was broached and Ryou could not figure out why. He fathomed over it for days, wondering what his misgivings were, and whether Aomine may have become disillusioned with him now, if there ever was a sense of wonder in the first place.

He wished he could be brave enough to demand the answer, but no matter the time they shared, he still felt like it was an answer he was undeserving to hear.

Ryou found that with some time in the kitchen, it grew to calm his nerves. Although caricatures did give him a sense of peace, he was always tempted to draw images of Aomine as some form of outlet on his frustrations. He needed something else to abate his worries.

The servants were uneasy about him being in the kitchen as always, but were too afraid to say anything. Ryou felt guilty, so as a form of apology, he made them some of the confectionaries he’d learned to make from books.

Lured by the smell, Aomine had walked in on him making some honey-lemon cakes one day. Ryou felt his heart nearly burst at the seams at the sight of him, and without even much thinking on his part had offered his mate a bite of it.

“Wow, Ryou, these are damn good. How’d you learn to make these?” he’d asked, munching on the puny cakes.

Ryou hid behind his hands, not wanting Aomine to see the goofy grin on his face. “I-I just learned it in one of the cookbooks I found in the library. It’s nothing special.”

Aomine smirked. “Well, however you call ‘em or not, you gotta make more of these. Gimme some more, Ryou.” He sounded so childish that Ryou almost laughed at him, but instead, he was so overtaken by his want for Aomine that it only caused him to swoon even harder.

“Y-yes, here you go!” He pushed some of the honey-lemon cakes on a tray near his elbow to Aomine, and Aomine took them gratefully. He munched on them with gusto, standing closer to Ryou. It was such a small thing to be happy about, but Ryou loved being around Aomine’s presence. It just gave him so much security and warmth that he could barely contain himself.

Aomine talked around a full mouth, trading stories about his day and barely sparing time for breath, but Ryou found it endearing all the same. He’d be a little worried about how much he’s grown to love Aomine’s idiosyncrasies, but he figures it comes with the package of loving to be in someone’s company. He’s never had such a thing like it before.

As Aomine continued munching, Ryou, without much thinking, swiped a thumb against Aomine’s lip, ridding of a crumb.

Aomine stopped eating then, staring at Ryou with bewilderment.

Instantly, Ryou felt like he committed an atrocity because while yes, he _was_ Aomine’s mate and omega, he didn’t have the right to treat his king like a blubbering child, no matter how endearing it looked. Apologies began shooting out of his mouth like a barraging waterfall.

_How could he have been so presumptuous? He was getting too arrogant. Too arrogant, and insensitive, and insolent._

But then, Aomine was kissing the hell out of him, molding their mouths together in a passion so frenzied that it seemed to rival that of his heat. He was hoisted on the counter, Aomine pressing their chests together and making Ryou crazy with want as their tongues danced around each other. He could taste the zest of lemon and the sweetness of the honey, the tang of Aomine’s taste-- growing dizzy with the amalgamation. Ryou pulled at Aomine’s hair, moaning against his lips, not having realized how parched he was to feel this sense of swirling lust again—to feel that sense of closeness and sensuality embodied in one act. He could feel the static, how their wants rubbed against each other even through the apron, how Aomine caressed at his exposed skin by the hip, inching closer and closer to his chest, where he felt like his nipples were chaffing painfully against his shirt.

 _Aomine-sama,_ he could hear himself chanting. _Please have me. Please eat me._

And then Aomine was pushing him away and Ryou was chasing after his touch, his palms outreaching and left with nothing to hold.

He couldn’t quite process it at the time, being abandoned in such a frazzled state and longing for his mate to the point of hurt, but the rejection was made clear all the same. Aomine had disappeared without a trace that day, the honey-lemon cakes scattered on the floor like Ryou’s heart, and he could only pick at them to salvage what was left, only to end up throwing them away.

Ryou waited for an explanation, for even an appearance, but Aomine seemed to also be determined never to return to his bedchambers. Ryou cried himself to sleep each night it happened.

Eventually, Himuro grew to notice his student’s seeming dispassion towards his craft and took pity on him, placing a hand on Ryou’s brush to pause him.

Ryou looked up at him with complete despondency.

“Ryou-sama, is there anything you’d like to talk about?” he began as carefully as he could.

Ryou’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second, hopeful, but then it was that look of despondence again.

“I… I’m all right.” Himuro’s sure that to even Ryou’s own ears, this sounded like a blatant lie. Himuro shook his head, easing the brush out of Ryou’s hand and placing it on the easel.

“Ryou-sama, wasn’t our first lesson that if ever an artist lies to himself, he lies to his creations, and then again to himself?”

“Yes…” Ryou conceded, his shoulders slumping. Himuro quirked his lips, lifting the poor boy’s head by the chin.

“I would like to help you, but I can’t do that if I’m only guessing.” He offered him the gentlest of smiles, hoping to chip away at Ryou’s armor if only just a little. He took Ryou’s hands in his to try and seal the deal.

Ryou began welling with tears instantly, his face glowing red like a sunset and almost engulfing him in a halo. It broke Himuro’s heart to see him in such low spirits. He tugged Ryou to his chest, soothing at his hair, feeling the boy shake within his circle of arms. “Tell me what’s wrong, Ryou-sama.”

Ryou sniffled, hiding his face in Himuro’s neck. “I don’t think Aomine-sama likes me anymore.”

Himuro cocked his head at this, disbelieving. “Why in the world would you say this, your majesty? The king adores you.”

Ryou shook his head. “No… He detests me. I know it because—because he rejected me.”

“In what way?”

Himuro’s cooing seemed to calm Ryou down a sliver, enough to finally bring himself out of Himuro’s embrace to properly blow his nose into the handkerchief Himuro offered him.

“It’s just… when we were in the kitchen the other day, we were in a predicament.”

“Mm-hm.”

“The predicament being… we were kissing very heatedly.”

Himuro hummed again in thought. “And I assume that when it got too heavy, he pushed you away?”

Ryou nodded glumly, bowing his head like a forlorn puppy. Himuro smiled at him, cupping his face. “Oh, Ryou-sama. You are still very loved, I guarantee it. You’re just not straining your eyes enough.”

“B-but, he pushed me awa--,”

“Ryou-sama, have you ever initiated contact with Aomine-sama first?”

Ryou bit his lip, offering silence as his answer.

“So you’ve never approached him with this intention in mind? You’ve always just expected him to put the moves on you?”

Ryou blushed. “I-I—It’s not that I _expect_ him to _always_ initiate—I think that it’s his right to--,”

Himuro gave him a knowing look. Ryou blushed some more. Meekly, he admits a solitary “yes.”

“Hmm, well, if you’d like to gain any admission out of him, you have to demand it.”

“ _Demand_ it?” Ryou squealed, the concept of it so foreign to him that his eyes were nearly bulging out of their sockets. Himuro laughed.

“Yes, my princely king, demand it,” he reiterated, twining their fingers together and pulling to and fro to give Ryou a smidgen of a massage.

“H-how could I… do that?”

Ryou looked so innocent that Himuro had to remind himself that this boy just had his heat a few weeks prior and was probably more than active with his mate within that time. He almost felt bad about suggesting what he was about to do now.

“Would you like me to teach you?”

*

It took some slight nudging on Himuro’s part for Ryou to agree, but nonetheless, the eagerness to learn was apparent.

After hours, Himuro came to fetch Ryou from the gardens and then led him to his barracks near the kitchens. Since he was a special guest come on request, his quarters were a bit homelier, provided with upscale amenities and bedding comfortable enough to compete with his own at home. Himuro led him to said bed, and patted the spot next to him where Ryou could join.

From this close, Himuro could see Ryou’s slight tremoring, his uncertainty. He massaged Ryou’s palms, bringing them to rest on his shoulders as he pushed the boy to his back and began straddling him. Ryou bristled at this, his unease solidifying his body like a block. “Relax, Ryou-sama. I wouldn’t do anything to betray your king’s trust in you.”

“Y-yes, but… aren’t we awfully close?” he timidly asked.

Himuro chuckled, swiveling his hips the tiniest amount to give them a taste of friction. Ryou moaned at this, and looked stricken by it. “How else am I to show you how to pleasure your king?” He twined their fingers again, tugging at them so they could rest at his hips. He massaged the back of Ryou’s hands with his thumbs.

“I don’t know… how this would have anything to do with my ‘demanding’ of him.” Ryou shifted his eyes away from Himuro’s chest, at how his robe seemed to be exposing more flesh than usual.

Himuro swiveled his hips again, loving the little yip that pulled from Ryou’s lips. “It has everything to do with it. Alphas only bow to their own strengths, kneel to their own arrogances, and obey their own prides. Do you know what can truly shake them to the core and strip them of such pretenses?”

Ryou shook his head.

“It’s a being of equal status—someone who can give them everything, but also receive everything--someone they feel they can’t conquer or have without a slight challenge. He found your initial resistance of him to be quite a feat, you know?”

“T-those were the feats he mentioned?”

“And more,” Himuro reassured. “He loved your silent determination, your zeal for the arts, your fearlessness in the face of uncertainty, your innocence. He’s _infatuated_ with you, your majesty.”

Ryou bit his lip, processing the information and growing redder by his ministrations and admissions. “How can I give back to him, then?”

Himuro hummed, tracing the outline of Ryou’s lips. “Well, for starters, why don’t you start by calling him ‘Daiki?’”

Ryou covered his face, steaming from the ears. “That’s insolent! I could never call him that!”

“Haha, just try it. I guarantee he’d be delighted by this.”

“I-I could settle for ‘Aomine-kun,’ but anything else is out of the question, Himuro-san!”

“Then call him that. Anything is a step up from ‘Aomine-sama,’” Himuro giggled. “Alright… so, ‘Aomine-kun,’ we’ll go with that. The next thing you have to do”—Himuro pried Ryou’s hands away, exposing his face, and then tilting his chin so that Ryou couldn’t look anywhere else—“is to always stare into his eyes. The eyes are the windows to the soul, your majesty. You have to command his attention.”

Ryou swallowed, but nodded nonetheless.

“Thirdly, while it’s good to have your alpha treat you in the way he likes best, it’s also good to take pleasure into your own hands. You could start by kissing at his chin”—he slid his fingers against Ryou’s chin—“caressing his neck”—his fingers slid over the bulge of Ryou’s Adam’s apple—“laving at his chest”—he rubbed at Ryou’s nipples, eliciting the sweetest of sighs—“and then pleasuring him with your lips.” He accentuated this by rolling his hips again.

Ryou tremored. “Do you mean u-using my mouth… on h-his…” he trailed off.

Himuro smiled, bringing his fingers to Ryou’s lips and nudging them apart. “Mm-hm. Would you like to know how?”

“I-if you’d show me… please.”

Himuro licked his lips, imagining his own mate, but focused on the task at hand. “Firstly, don’t just shove it right in. Massage him a little with your hands. Use two hands-- this is important. Alphas love it when their omegas can’t encircle it entirely in their hands. It makes them feel bigger. Then, wet your lips.”

Ryou did as he was told, nicking Himuro’s fingertips with his tongue. “Give little kitten licks to his tip and give him a few kisses. And then slowly,” Himuro whispers, slipping his fingers into the warmth of Ryou’s mouth. “Slowly, begin to swallow around him, taking him in inch by inch, paying each descent down with a loving hug of your tongue. Make sure your teeth don’t nick him,” he advises. Ryou quickly obliged, the tiniest of tears beading at the corners of his eyes. Himuro almost didn’t want to finish the lesson at how pure they looked up at him.

“Move your head the way it pleases you most. Your passion for him will provide him enough to want to release. But, if you feel like you can’t take anymore…” Himuro stops his fingers from going any further, the inklings of Ryou’s gag reflex alerting him. “Don’t force yourself. Whatever you can’t reach, use your hands, okay?”

Ryou hummed against his fingers, and Himuro resisted the urge to shudder. He withdrew them slowly, wiping away at Ryou’s tears. “Very good, Ryou-sama. Would you like to know what would really undo him?”

“Yes, please,” Ryou said with no amount of hesitation.

Himuro smiled slyly, tugging on Ryou’s hips and flipping them over so that Ryou could straddle him instead.

Ryou squeaked, quickly placing his palms against Himuro’s exposed chest to balance himself.

“The way to undo an alpha is to take pleasure for yourself. Alphas like to conquer, yes, but they love a nice show.” Himuro began grinding into Ryou’s ass, steadying his movements by grasping onto his hips. “Show him how much you love the pleasure he’s giving you by reciprocating in kind. Make him know how much you love making love.”

Ryou began panting as the swivel of his hips became more natural and had more to do with his own movements rather than with Himuro’s help. His moans became more free as the intensity began to rise, making even Himuro’s own self-control almost crumble. “I-It feels good, Himuro-san…”

“Mmm. That’s how it should be. Be open like this to your king. If you do it like how you’re doing with me, he’ll surely give you all the answers you need.”

Concluding his final tip, Himuro stilled Ryou in his ministrations, and gave one last affectionate kiss to his cheek. “You did well, your majesty. I look forward to how it turns out.”

Ryou, seemingly back to himself, after processing that yes, he had engaged in a very sensual act with Himuro, looked taken aback for a moment. “I… don’t believe this is the Tououan way.”

Himuro just intertwined their fingers. “If Aomine-sama wanted the Tououan way, he wouldn’t have married you now, would he?”

Himuro patted at Ryou’s hip so he could disentangle from their position, but Ryou was frozen in realization. He then glanced at Himuro with the most puzzled of eyes. “How do you know so much about this, Himuro-san?”

Himuro shrugged, tugging on his robes and setting himself back to rights. “I’ve simply lived it. I had to earn my alpha’s respect somehow, ne?”

Ryou nodded in resigned pondering, but then whipped his head around in complete bafflement. “Wait… you’re an _omega,_ Himuro-san?” he exclaimed.

Himuro cocked his head. “Was that not obvious?”

“I’m sorry, but it definitely wasn’t! I thought you were an alpha for the longest time.”

“Haha, most people assume that I’m an omega, though? I thought me being of the grey fox made that obvious enough.”

“No, it definitely didn’t! You’re so strong and beautiful, Himuro-san!”

Himuro giggled into his palm. “Why, thank you, Ryou-sama. But, you know… omegas all over are plenty strong and beautiful, too. You’re one of them.”

When Ryou looked disbelieving, the pieces finally began to fit together. It wasn’t that Ryou didn’t believe omegas could be strong and beautiful—it was just that he never applied that to himself, so he figured those qualities could only exist for someone who was an alpha. Himuro felt his heart break all over again. He pulled Ryou into another embrace.

“H-Himuro-san?” Ryou questioned.

Himuro didn’t answer. He just hugged him even tighter.

*

“If you want to get in a word edgewise, corner him,” Himuro had advised him.

This, of course, was easier said than done. Aomine still avoided him like a newly concocted plague, and was rarely around to even get near. When he wasn’t sleeping, Aomine was about doing his rounds-- something he did once in a blue moon-- and if it wasn't that, he was filing paperwork, which was even less of an occurrence. Ryou had to give him props for trying so hard, but not too much because this was doing major damage to his nerves.

“He’s been sleeping in that old lodging I had down south. He’s probably gonna be heading there soon,” Momoi tipped him. She, too, had been sworn into secrecy, now causing blooms of ire to sprout. This was getting to be too convoluted, especially regarding Aomine, who never was one to scheme.

Using Momoi’s key, Ryou had barged into the lodging, uncaring and quite impatient. Immediately, the scent of their previous hormones overwhelmed him, but he plowed on, taking to the stairs and then veering to the right where their bedroom had been before.

The room was unkempt upon entering, the bed and blankets an untidy mess, akin to the way they had left it before. It was obvious enough that Aomine had been living it out here by himself for a while. The thought of it nearly made Ryou burst into tears again.

He smoothed the bed’s covers, a whiff of Aomine’s scent neutralizing his anger if only the tiniest amount. He didn’t understand Aomine’s thinking, not quite yet, but like Himuro told him, he had to _demand_ it out of him. He had to show that he was of equal status, that he could be privy to Aomine’s concerns and values, that he could shoulder even rejection, so long as Aomine could stay by his side.

He wiped his tears away and made himself comfortable on the bed, bundling up in the blankets and inhaling lungfuls of Aomine’s scent in the sheets.

The door opened to find an Aomine disheveled by a long day’s work, chucking off his shoes, and pulling at the buttons of his dress shirt. At the sight of Ryou, he froze mid-button.

Ryou had expected this, but it didn’t stop the pang in his heart any less.

“Ryou…” Aomine breathed, the surprise evident in his voice. “What are you doing here?”

Ryou sunk deeper into the blankets like a timorous turtle. “I wanted to see you…”

Aomine seemed to process this for a second, before coming to a conclusion and then nodding his head. “I… If you wanted to do that, you could’ve seen me at the grounds. I was there all day.”

Ryou felt anger begin to blossom at the pit of his stomach again. “I know. I saw you.”

Aomine sighed, running fingers through his hair. He continued to shed his clothes off, throwing them haphazardly to the floor. “All right, then. Scoot over so I can sleep soon.” This Ryou made to do, albeit with great aggravation. He didn’t really understand why Aomine was being so dismissive of him.

The fact that Aomine even had the audacity to kiss his forehead made the anger simmer higher.

He couldn’t take much more of this.

Without preamble, Ryou pushed Aomine into the bed and climbed over him, straddling him and keeping him locked into place. “Ryou! What are you doing?” Aomine exclaimed.

Ryou ignored him, tugging at his shirt and pulling it over his head. “We’re going to have sex,” he stated plainly.

“Wait, _what._ ”

Ryou, finally have wrestled out of his own pants, began to tug on Aomine’s briefs, which seemed to already be sporting a tent. “Ryou, really, just—,”

“Aomine-kun.” Ryou placed a finger against Aomine’s lips, silencing him once and for all. “Let me pleasure you, please.”

Aomine gulped but couldn’t seem to summon any sort of protest.

Ryou smiled nervously, the shyness threatening to overtake him again, but he forged on. Without steering his eyes away for one second, Ryou put Himuro’s teachings into work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never knew I needed so much Himuro-Sakurai interaction until now. Till next time, ya'll. The next chapter is going to be INSANE.


	9. succession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sakurai realizes he's got a lot to be thankful for.

Aomine, for all the life vested in him and all the Gods he pretended to know existed, had no clue as to why Sakurai Ryou, the soft-spoken, mild-mannered, innocent sunflower—or rather—the sunshine that nourished the sunflower, was tugging at his briefs, huffing quietly at the way the fabric wouldn’t give.

He could see the gears in Ryou’s mind whirring in motion, trying to figure out what his next course of action would be.

Out of that stubborn pride Ryou insisted never existed, he decided to keep pulling at his hips, to try prying the briefs from his person by sheer force alone. He looked on the verge of tears again when it still wouldn’t budge. Despite Aomine’s confusion, he had enough sense not to torture him for too long—it was cute when he was crying out in pleasure, but it was a different story when the kid was crying out of conceived rejection. It always pulled painfully at something within his chest, like a bowstring tugged too taught. Shoving his own pride aside, Aomine raised his hips so that Ryou could slide the garment off and toss it to the side with one last puff of annoyance.

Aomine wasn’t unfamiliar with this kind of Ryou. He’d been privy to similar instances before—a Ryou with passionate focus when he’d curl his lip reading a book, baking sweets, or poring over masterpieces that he swore up and down were never up to par. It’s not like Aomine was an artist, though, so he wasn’t a great source of judgment, but it looked like a legitimate person, and that was better than anything Aomine could ever hope to do.

As previously stated, though, Aomine knew Ryou was a focused kind of man. But, this look wasn’t something he was accustomed to—a look conjured solely for the prospect of zeroing in on Aomine’s cock and wondering at the intricacies of how to spur it to life by sheer glance alone. Aomine, among many things spanning across different aspects of life, was at a loss of what to do.

Ryou glanced up at him— nervousness so palpable that Aomine could smell it off him—and then licked his lips before tentatively smoothing his hands over Aomine’s chest and then craning to peck at his lips. The kiss was soft and languid, unhurried but slightly shaky. Aomine could tell that Ryou was unsure whether he liked this new side of him—the one that played at dominance despite being so inexperienced. He decided to indulge him, resigning himself to this little ‘game’ that Ryou was playing at.

Instantly, Ryou was responsive to his reciprocation, panting against his lips. He deepened it with a motion of his tongue and Ryou lapped back at him, encircling arms around his neck and stirring atop his thighs, nudging Aomine’s cock with intention.

That broke Aomine’s threshold and he thrust up into Ryou’s motion, loving the sigh that evoked and then doing it again to hear even more. That had always been his favorite part—Ryou’s honey-sweet cries. Ever since the heat, he couldn’t steer his thoughts away from it, and now that he was here bearing witness to it again, Aomine wondered why he ever thought strengthening his mental fortitude by abstaining from sex, especially when his mate was here wanting and needing, was ever a good idea.

He could feel the molten lava of impatience rise at the pit of his stomach and he growled into their heated kiss, trapping Ryou into place with his arm as he intensified their grinding, making sure to slide himself against Ryou’s puckered entrance, making sure to let Ryou know that he won—Aomine was Ryou’s to play with.

“Mm, Aomine-kun…” he sighed, sliding his fingers from Aomine’s chin, and then further down to appreciate his neck, and then down the long expanse of his chest. He bit at Aomine’s lip, nearly nicking blood from where teeth met skin, shocking Aomine to stillness. “Aomine-kun…” he whispered into the spiral of his ear, causing gooseflesh to rise all over his body. That honorific seemed so sinful when ushered so wantonly from such pure lips. Aomine almost felt guilty hearing it. “I-I want… to taste you,” he stuttered. He hid his face against Aomine’s neck, the blush staining his cheeks so red that it almost seemed to singe where it made contact with skin.

Aomine resisted the urge to shudder. _When the hell did Ryou become so bold?_

“Then, taste me,” he acquiesced, shifting on his elbows slightly so that Ryou could maneuver his way down, no matter how clumsily. When Ryou finally retracted from the enclosure of his neck, there was a certain burst of eagerness in his eyes that seemed to tickle Aomine. _Too damn cute._

Ryou’s fingers ghosted over his stomach, tracing over the outlines of his abs where he seemed to pause and marvel. Aomine, again, resisted the urge to take control.

With little to no finesse, Ryou slid his fingers against Aomine’s tip, hesitant and careful, but then those sugar-brown eyes peered up at him with such shy assuredness that it rendered Aomine almost completely boneless. Ryou thumbed at the bead of cum pearling at his slit and swiped an experimental lick against the ridge, and then he closed his eyes, seeming to savor the taste in his mouth, and _damn all the Gods_ , Aomine was _not_ going to be undone by a simple, inexperienced kitten lick.

Ryou paused, seeming to recall something, and then promptly brought his other hand into the mix to grip around his cock, and Aomine almost hated how good it felt to see Ryou’s two tiny hands barely able to wrap around him completely, like he was too much to handle. It almost seemed wrong.

The fingers tightened around him as they began to massage him, the pace agonizingly slow and arrhythmic. “Aomine-kun,” Ryou began. “Does it… does it feel good?”

Aomine huffed, grappling at the sheets. “I thought you were going to taste me.” He hoped he didn’t sound too eager.

Ryou seemed to go even redder, but didn’t dare disappoint. Aomine hadn’t even known he was holding his breath until Ryou’s lips began to part for him, his tongue peeking through to wet at them. Like a punctured balloon, Aomine deflated with a wounded sigh as Ryou flattened his tongue against the back of his dick, cushioning the most sensitive, throbbing vein.

Then, he switched gears, swirling his tongue around Aomine’s sensitive head just to get a better taste, and Aomine felt himself blanking more than usual.

Aomine knew without a shadow of a doubt that he hated foreplay. If he could help it, he always just skipped to the main event. Ryou seemed intent to change that mindset, though. He was staring up at him so avidly, enraptured by Aomine’s pleasure, enraptured by the way Aomine’s cock twitched in his hands. Like a reward not unlike a pat to the head of an obedient child, Ryou kissed at his tip, applying the tiniest suction, and when he broke away, an unbroken string of saliva clung to his lips like a prayer, and then parted, landing like a graceful sin on his chin.

Easily provoked, his hand began to wrench at Ryou’s hair. Ryou stared up at him, quizzical.

Aomine huffed, knowing he’d sound desperate. “Suck me.” He’ll regret sounding like a beggar when he’s dead.

Ryou bit at his succulent bottom lip, his desire for Aomine apparent. He nodded his head, and without breaking their stare, he gently parted his lips again and then they were around Aomine, sinking him into such warm, inviting heat that he tossed his head back against the bed, hissing through the gaps of his teeth.

He felt Ryou begin to bob his head, his two hands keeping his cock steady as he tried to take more and more of Aomine’s girth and length. The inexperience began to rear its ugly head as Ryou gagged and convulsed around him, but he was careful to suppress it, stopping right before the halfway point and then nursing the rest of Aomine’s cock he couldn’t reach with his hands.

Aomine dared to sneak a glance downward and moaned at the sight that he found. Although Ryou hadn’t found a rhythm or perfect method to his ministrations, the look that was being given was enough to fall a man. Those pure, unguarded eyes were begging for his approval, and those lips glistened as they swallowed around him, so wet and pink. He carded fingers through Ryou’s hair, and Ryou moaned, sending a shock of otherworldly vibration down his spine.

He was growing ragged, watching Ryou’s face contort in bliss at being the one to give Aomine this pleasure. Every suck, no matter how inexpert, was bringing Aomine closer to the edge, and he could see it plain as day on Ryou’s face—he wanted Aomine to spend himself generously in his mouth, to flood him so helplessly that it’d spill from the closure of his sweet lips. But, Aomine was an impatient man.

He yanked at Ryou’s hair, daring himself not to pay avid attention to that one tear that streaked down his face. Ryou looked so flushed already that if anyone else were to have lain eyes on him now, they’d swear on their lives that Aomine had already laid waste to him.

“Aomine-kun…” _By all the Gods, that name was going to be the end of him._ “Did it not feel good?”

Aomine reigned control over himself and slackened his tight grip of Ryou’s hair, smoothing the frays as gently as a man teetering on the brink of bliss could. He gritted his teeth, exhaling from his nose and shivering when his breath fanned at the spit coating his cock.

“Idiot,” he chuckled. “It felt too damn good. The hell was that?”

Ryou blinked up at him. “Then why did we stop?” He looked so sad that Aomine could feel the smallest stirrings of guilt gnaw at him.

He scratched at his head with frustration. “Isn’t it obvious?” He slid dexterous fingers down the expanse of Ryou’s back, eliciting another pretty sigh. He stopped when he reached the plumpness of Ryou’s ass, loving how the skin gave way to him and the way that Ryou arched his back to get closer to his touch. “I wanna cum inside you,” he whispered against Ryou’s ear, his voice rough and grated.

Aomine didn’t know he was pushed to his back until he was left staring up at the ceiling. “Wha—,” he began, but Ryou silenced him with a finger to his lips. Then he climbed atop him again, all supple lines and determined, brown eyes.

“If you want to cum inside, I want to ride you,” he commanded with no slight tremor in his voice.

Aomine felt arousal knife him in the gut. He couldn’t help the smirk that began to engulf his entire face. “Heh. Do what you like, Ryou.” He skimmed his palms over Ryou’s thighs, and then pressed them against his hips.

Aomine watched with little more than complete fascination and intrigue as Ryou leveled himself and allowed one deep breath to leave him. Aomine could barely resist thumbing at his pink nipple, but he waited, knowing how important this was to Ryou.

Ryou lifted himself, palming at his own cock languidly and teasing at his tip. “Keep your eyes on me, please,” he insisted. Then, with a delicate flourish of his hands, he guided Aomine to his puckered, wet entrance. As he began to breach it, Ryou tilted his head back, extending his neck for Aomine to see, biting on his lip hard enough to draw blood.

Ignoring the inviting heat as best as he could, Aomine cradled Ryou’s chin in his hand, then gently pried his lips apart, unleashing a slew of mewls and helpless whimpers. Ryou glanced down at them, at their connection as they cemented into place, and then looked at Aomine, unguarded and open. 

It made whatever was left of his patience dissipate and Aomine was grappling at Ryou’s pale hips like it was the answer to all his pleas and prayers.

Ryou happily moaned at the sudden deepness, slamming a palm against Aomine’s stomach. Heat seared them heavily at their cores, and Aomine had to admit it to himself eventually—he was losing his goddamn mind and he was perfectly content with it.

Ryou was rolling his hips into the thrusts, keening forward with each swivel, the sound of their lovemaking so loud he wondered if it carried beyond the walls of their bedroom.

“Mm, no--,” Ryou tried to articulate. “Too fast—please, slow it down, Aomine-kun!”

At the stage Aomine was in, that was asking for the impossible. But, Aomine was never one to bow out of a challenge. Without skipping a beat, Aomine just made his thrusts deeper, sliding his cock out till the tip of it was licking at Ryou’s rim, before sliding back in with such slow ascent that they could feel every dragging inch of flesh.

Ryou keened, and all Aomine could do was stare at the beauty and confidence beginning to unfold before him.

Ryou was taking command of his own pleasure, loving each careful caress of his thighs, how Aomine was transfixed and focused only on him. Each deep, earthshattering thrust made him want to crumble into pieces, made him want to cry at the unfairness of it all—at how breathtakingly good and pleasurable it was to be connected to the person you loved—and it was all unfair because he could never feel like this with anyone else ever. He was marked for Aomine to love and keep.

Aomine could see the surrender on him, at how Ryou exposed the subtle dips and lines of his body, how their bodies seemed to fit better than it ever did before, how the corners of Ryou’s lips seemed to lift the tiniest amount at the corners, belying the most blissful of smiles. Ryou was _enjoying_ himself.

“Aomine-kun, Aomine-kun…” Ryou chanted against Aomine’s lips.

Aomine dragged them both to a sit, their connection deepening even further. They panted against each other, eyes never wavering, as they moved their hips in tandem, Ryou’s hands scrambling for purchase around Aomine and nails embedding so intensely that Ryou worried it’d leave scars.

He clutched around Ryou’s waist, groaning against his neck and nuzzling at his bite mark, feeling a rush of hormones envelop them both, the surge so unaccounted for that it took both of them by surprise.

It was then that Aomine seized up, igniting his whole being and carving into Ryou’s body, coming undone, and Ryou stilled in his lap, constricting around him so tightly that he felt every single drop wrenched from him like they were never part of him to begin with.

Ryou continued to bounce on him, the thrusts shallow, like he was only doing it because he wanted to keep chasing the finish line despite having passed it a mile ago. Although the sensation was getting a bit too sensitive, Aomine rode it out, letting Ryou do what he wanted.

When the sensitivity assaulted Ryou’s faculties, too, he stopped, pausing for breath.

Resting their foreheads together, Aomine panted against Ryou’s lips, examining the soft contours of his face, at how the light from the moon was shining beautifully on the lines of his jaw, at the sweat that matted his hair, the quiver of his lips as he bathed in the afterglow.

Ryou’s eyes were closed, eyelashes fluttering against his pink cheeks. He was focusing on the thrum of blood in their veins, the desperate, frantic beating of their hearts. When he opened his eyes, Aomine could barely recognize the face reflected back at him, yet he was unsurprised when nothing seemed to inspire a complaint out of him.  

He kissed Ryou on the lips softly, their lips clinging for a moment.

They both sighed into it, content. “The hell was that, Ryou…” he slurred.

Ryou peered up at him, a hint of a smile gracing his lips. “I just wanted to please you… Aomine-kun.”

Aomine bonked their heads together playfully. “Heh. Anymore and I think I might go catatonic. Mind not doing that to me?”

“But what if I want you to go catatonic?” Ryou challenged.

Aomine chortled. “Oi. Are you making threats against your king?”

“I don’t mean to,” Ryou gulped. “But… I’d love if it you could… only do this with me…”

Aomine sighed, slumping against him. “I really screwed up with those three whores, didn’t I?”

Ryou's shoulders sagged, his gaze breaking away from the blue of Aomine's eyes. “I won’t lie to you. It really hurt… to know you took pleasure in someone else.” Ryou worried at his lip, and Aomine stopped it with another chaste peck.

“I won’t do that again.” Aomine looked at him with so much undeterred promise that Ryou, without even having to feel the flutter in his heart, knew that it was soaring. Whatever tension that hadn’t already been wiped away, it did now, leaving his body like a forgotten smart on his soul. He rested his head against Aomine’s shoulder, wrapping his arms around his waist in a loose embrace.

“Thank goodness,” he sighed with relief. Aomine smirked, ruffling at his hair.

“Sorry, too,” Aomine spoke in Ryou’s mother tongue. He reverted back to his own language, feeling uncomfortable with his accent. “I made you worry this week, didn’t I?”

Ryou nodded, pouting petulantly. “Mm. I wept. Frequently.”

“I was trying to do the opposite. Didn’t work out in my favor, obviously.”

“Hmm?”

“I thought I was too harsh on your body.”

At this, Ryou picked his head back up. “You mean during my heat?”

Aomine scratched at the back of his head, steering his eyes away. “Yeah… I lost control.”

Ryou brought their hands together, and then bestowed kisses to his knuckles. Even more emboldened, he licked at Aomine’s fingers, and Aomine felt a shiver wrack throughout his body. “I liked it that way,” he admitted, hushed like it was a secret only Aomine was privy to.

“Really. What the hell happened to my sweet, innocent Ryou?”

Ryou giggled. “You gave him a hunger that he can’t sate. Take responsibility, please.”

Aomine shivered again at the look of discovered mischievousness in the depths of those eyes. “You’re really gonna kill me, Ryou.”

Ryou swiveled his hips, reminding him that they were still connected from their previous coupling. “I don’t mind if we die together, Aomine-kun. Can I ask one more question?”

Aomine laughed, kissing his shoulder and neck. “Mm.”

“Can we… go another round?”

Aomine was deftly and succinctly catatonic.

*

The days marched along at a slow and leisurely stride. Ryou had never experienced such pure, unadulterated happiness in his life.

He might have chanced a glimpse of it when his soft-spoken, omegan mother was still alive, when she’d braided his hair with rows of charming little flowers. She’d say, “These flowers could only hope to be as lovely as you are, Ryou.” Those were the only things he could truly remember about her before her happiness was wrenched out of her hands. His father had died fighting a war he didn’t believe in, and his mother, like little more than a breeder pig, was succinctly wed to a tyrannical king who hadn’t cared an ounce about either of their existences.

She’d died not long after, contracting some sort of disease that no one could put a name to. That was the general consensus and what was recorded. But, before Ryou knew about physical afflictions or incurable maladies, he’d always just thought that it was because her happiness had simply run out, seeped out of her body, nonrenewable as it was, leaving her an empty shell with nothing to fuel her movements.

He figured that was what would happen to him once he wedded. He figured that was the road that all omegas had to endure, that it was the cross they had to bear for existing solely as a vessel for other human beings, so that they could be ushered into this world.

But, it ended up being that it wasn’t the case for him at all.

Ryou amounted to more than just his biology, he recently learned. He was an autonomous person with wants and desires, comrades, passions, ideas, a voice.

Himuro reminded him daily that despite what history has led them to believe, omegas had been ever-present, witnessing the present unfold alongside the alphas. They weren’t second-rate and they weren’t carbon copies of each other. Each and every one of them had something different to offer to the world, and it wasn’t just the seeds that the alphas could sow within them.

Those thoughts raced through his mind, and although it was repetitive, Ryou found them uplifting and inspiring. His canvases seemed to be flowing with limitless ink lately, as if his brush was simply a sweeper whisking away at the white dust that seemed intent on hiding the picture underneath. He drew people he’d never seen before, each of them with their own unique backstories—some alpha, some omega, some beta. It was a conglomeration of people that he probably would’ve been afraid of meeting once upon a time, but there was a novel difference now. These were people he wished existed just so he _could_ meet them.

Himuro noted the subtle differences.

“Very impressive, Ryou-sama. Your skills could even begin to rival mine one day,” he chuckled, marveling at Ryou’s newest addition.

Ryou laughed, waving his hand noncommittally as he swiveled in his chair, pausing from his sketch work. “Please don’t flatter me too much, Himuro-san. I might start believing it.”

Himuro beamed even more, and then promptly proceeded to choke Ryou with his embrace. “Then _start_ believing it! You’ve come a long way, your majesty.”

Ryou found himself agreeing.

Enraptured by this sudden shift, the servants who tended to flitter near the kitchens, the ones who’d previously been uneasy about letting a royal loose to cook and bake, and the ones Ryou had been trying to make peace with byway of sweets and confectionaries, grew less wary of him and were brave enough to even conversate with him.

The first kitchen servant to befriend him was named Fukuda.

Ryou had found him chucking some of the powdered-sugar date cookies he’d made a few days prior into a paper sackie, eyes shifting to and fro. When he saw Ryou bearing witness to this, he’d immediately gotten to his knees, apologizing so vehemently that it might have rivaled Ryou’s own apologies.

Ryou had simply made to lay his worries to rest, insisting he keep the cookies. “Please take them! They were made for you all, anyhow. If there’s not enough, I can always make some more!”

“T-these were made… for us?” Fukuda had asked, disbelieving.

Ryou nodded.

“No wonder the treats were all going to waste. None of you knew it was for yours to take,” he sighed.

Fukuda had glanced down at his sackie then, at his supposed thievery, his face contorting with guilt. “C-could… could you make some more for us?” he asked timidly. “Please!” he quipped, nearly forgetting that he was talking to a royal.

Ryou beamed and nodded vigorously. “It would make me very happy to! If you wouldn’t mind, would you like to help? You’re not obligated, though!”

Fukuda had blinked at him in confusion.

Ryou could tell bright as day that Fukuda’s idea of royalty didn’t match him whatsoever. Nonetheless, Fukuda eagerly acquiesced, and they both set off to work to make some more.

Ryou learned throughout their talks together that he had come from the land of Seirin, a relatively young kingdom with less than 3,000 inhabitants. His former brother-in-arms, Kawahara, was also a servant of the Touou kitchens alongside him, and because they were caught in the crossfires of a battle between Tououan and Onita lands, they became prisoners of war, detained for being trespassers.

Susa Yoshinori, one of the first beta generals Ryou had met from Touou, had incidentally been making rounds on the different camps near the field, and never having heard of Seirin before, had brought them to Imayoshi, who immediately discerned they were innocent and brought it up to Momoi’s attention that they should be kept on close watch.

She’d given them the ultimatum of either returning as prisoners or becoming servants, and it was obvious enough what choice they much preferred.

Being green soldiers, they hadn’t been privy to any of the underground workings or machinations of their kingdom, so Imayoshi wasn’t able to completely dig up anything on Seirin besides its location. They were sure they doomed their homeland to an ominous downfall, but Ryou told them to fret not.

“Aomine-kun is a conqueror, but he’s very fair,” he chirped, stirring the batter together. “If your land is as virtuous as you say, then he wouldn’t tarnish that for anything.”

Fukuda had just laughed. “I think you and I have very different images of your mate and king, your majesty.”

Ryou couldn’t even disagree.

It wasn’t long ago when his thoughts on Aomine listed more on the savagery than the mercy, as well. He’d be a hypocrite to command Fukuda to think otherwise. But, that didn’t seem to stop him from wanting to wax on and on about the man who flipped his world upside down.

Kawahara, who Ryou recently became acquainted with, couldn’t seem to stop laughing whenever Ryou would go on these certain tangents. “Forgive me, your majesty! I don’t mean to insult you. I just never took you to be one of the talkative types,” he’d insist. “Besides, that smitten look on your face is also quite amusing.”

Ryou would then pout at this, the oncoming signs of a blush already bubbling to the surface. “No snacks for you later, Kawahara-san.”

At this, Fukuda would squawk in embarrassment for his comrade and demand Kawahara to apologize, which, inevitably, Kawahara halfheartedly gave. Ryou knew it was all in good fun, though, and he found himself growing to cherish the bonds that he seemed to be making lately.

And when the festivities quelled to silence and the hush of night would sweep the castle down to the embers of flickering candles and filtering moonlight, Ryou would bound his way down to the bedchambers, knowing that he’d find a weary Aomine on one side of the bed already, awaiting his presence.

Tonight was no different.

Aomine’s arm laid across the pillow where Ryou’s head would rest, and the blankets bunched around his legs, exposing him from neck to pelvic. “Ryou…” Aomine breathed at the sight of him.

Ryou felt his heart swell, and it took him but a minute to change into his nightgown so he could dive into Aomine’s arms. Aomine enveloped him tenderly, kissing at his forehead. “You smell like cookies,” he slurred, his voice already drenched with the hoarseness of oncoming sleep.

“Mmhm.” Ryou snuggled even closer, breathing in the scent of Aomine’s musk. “I have some for you in the kitchens. I was making them with Fukuda-san and Kawahara-san today.”

Aomine stirred at this. “Those damn servants again?”

Ryou cocked his head. “Is… there something wrong with that?” he asked, treading lightly.

Aomine sighed, his exhale ghosting over Ryou’s bangs. “No. Just don’t get too friendly with them.”

Something then clicked into place and Ryou began to giggle. Aomine harrumphed, grunting a petulant “what.”

“Are you jealous, Aomine-kun?” Ryou teased.

Ryou wasn’t quite expecting the answer he got. “Damn. I feel like a fucking child, but that’s probably what the hell these feelings are.” He scratched at the back of his head nonchalantly, unknowing of the effect these words were having on Ryou. “The hell am I doing getting all mopey over some servants you’ve been talking to when I slept with three random whores?” He shook his head, in disbelief with his own self as he tugged Ryou even closer. “I couldn’t imagine what you felt then, Ryou. Sorry. Really.”

Ryou felt the tugs of a smile at the same time as he felt tears begin to prick behind his eyes. _Who was this king and what had Ryou ever done to be blessed with someone like him?_

His life in Kirisaki Daiichi was utter, irrevocable hell. The same man who cursed his existence was the same man who formed the bridge to meet Aomine, and ever since realizing the love all around him now, he wondered if he’d ever change one single thing about that fact.

When once he dreaded the thought of death, he now would willingly die to protect what he has now, and when once he thought himself locked within the confines of his biology, he now found countless opportunities to counteract and redefine it.

Ryou had changed ever since coming to Touou, and he was so thankful for everything that led up to it.

Suppressing his tears, Ryou resolved he would never cry again so long as his tears were only reserved for moments of true happiness.

He yanked the blankets away from their persons and resolutely climbed atop Aomine’s lap. Aomine raised an eyebrow, slightly irritated at having been disturbed from the vestiges of sleep. Ryou giggled at the frown, kissing between the furrow of Aomine’s brows. “What is it now, Ryou?”

Ryou pulled at the neck of his nightgown, exposing his skin to the air, and slightly shivering from the chill. “Aomine-kun,” he began. “Let’s have sex, please.”

Aomine shook his head, the playfulness in his eyes telling Ryou that he wasn't in the least bit upset. “You really don’t mince your words anymore, do you?” Without another addendum, he flipped Ryou to his back, positioning himself between his legs. He pushed at the juncture behind Ryou’s knee, tracing his lips against his inviting thigh, and then directed his gaze to Ryou, the omega’s eyes already clouding with undeniable lust. “How do you want it tonight?”

Ryou bit his lip, already knowing what he wanted. “Rough, please.”

And that was what Aomine unerringly gave him.

Life seemed to pass on in this sweet succession.

Everything seemed to fade in the periphery as Ryou continued polishing his skills and reveling in the treasures that were his new comrades and connections that it seemed impossible to even conjure that he could attain yet another treasure.

This was brought to his attention by none other than Momoi.

“Sakurai-kun, you’re pregnant, aren’t you?” she’d asked.

At that moment, Ryou found yet another thing that fate seemed intent to change his mind on. When once he was terrorized by the idea of bearing the seed of future generations, he now was invigored to completely effectuate, if only to announce Aomine Daiki’s child, _their_ child, to the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha, I made this chapter out to be more epic than it actually ended up T_T I had WAY more stuff to include, but it just seemed WAAAY too long to put it all into one chapter. So now you're left with this weird, juicy cliffhanger hahahahahahahahaha


	10. conviction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sakurai makes up his mind.

“How did he react?”

Ryou would have bolted out of his seat if he weren’t in the middle of receiving treatment for the bathing ceremony. Instead, he forced himself to remain stock-still and look away, despite the creeping blush under his skin indicating the futility of his silence.

Momoi pouted at this, unimpressed by his secrecy as she rested her chin on her arms where she propped them upon the partition. “Did he respond rudely or something, Sakurai-kun?” she tried rephrasing.

Ryou swallowed, shaking his head timidly. “N-no… Aomine-kun was pleased with the news… I think,” he muttered lowly. He could feel the blush beginning to intensify and spread beyond his cheeks and up to his ears and down his neck at the memory of Aomine’s response.

Momoi beamed, giggling softly behind her hand. _That blush was always so telling._ “Oh, I see our king responded _very_ happily. What in the world did you two boys get up to, hmm?” she teased, giving Ryou the coyest look that has ever coyed.  

Ryou wanted to sink into the floor.

“Satsuki! If you’re going to delay the process, I’ll personally kick you out,” Riko, Momoi’s mate, spit near his side, still zeroed in on applying the ritual paste on his palms. “I already told you that Alphas aren’t allowed for this ceremony. Don’t make me regret keeping you here.”

Momoi giggled nervously, making placating gestures. “I know, Ai-chan. But, I wanna support Sakurai-kun, too! I’ll stay quiet—I promise!”

Riko eyed her suspiciously for a beat before turning her attention to Ryou once more. Her expression smoothly morphed to one more comforting and hospitable rather than the scathing one directed towards her own disruptive mate. “Sorry about that, Sakurai-sama. It’s supposed to be your child’s coronation day and my mate keeps trying to tease you. I hope you can forgive her.” Riko bowed her head.

Ryou immediately made to assuage her concerns. “No, it’s fine, Riko-san! Really! Momoi-san is a very close friend of mine. I’m quite used to her banter,” he assured her.

Riko just laughed. She then promptly joined a dried marigold to his right palm where the paste was slowly hardening and then flicked her gaze over to Himuro, who was standing at his left and also joining a dried primrose to his adjacent palm. “Go ahead and flex your fingers a bit, your majesty. Is it not too constricting?”

“No. It’s just right. Thank you.”

Riko nodded her head. “Good. Himuro-san, could you pour the orchid water with me into the bowl?” She gestured to the glass bowl that Ryou’s feet were placed in.

“Of course,” Himuro responded as he walked to the table behind him to retrieve the pitcher. From where Ryou was sitting, he could see steam billowing from its orifice. Already, he could smell the flower’s sweet scent, not overwhelmingly strong but it had a distinct pleasantness all the same. 

It was certainly a rather unorthodox ceremony. After all, Ryou had only ever known the Kirasaki Daiichi traditions when it came to pregnancy and the welcoming of a newborn. In his previous kingdom, it was always a rather austere but simple ritual wherein only the closest family members were permitted to see the omega to drape bejeweled snakeskin around said omega’s shoulders. The omega would then promptly be escorted to their chambers to wait out the rest of the pregnancy, with only their mate as company and the occasional attendant.

Here, as Riko explained upon his meeting her, the omega underwent three kinds of rituals.

He had been scheduled to meet with her today.

He’d woken up early, despite Momoi having informed him that she’d arrive at approximately noon, but he just simply couldn’t wait.

Momoi had told him that she was a headstrong omega, unwilling to bow down to any pompous fool, the pompous fools being any tooting Alpha. It was both something Momoi greatly feared and admired about her. He’d paced the floor the night before and the morning of because of it, wondering whether she would approve of the kind of omega he was. Momoi insisted that he had nothing to fret over because Riko would immediately take to him, but the nerves never truly wore away.

The fact that she agreed to officiate the Tououan rituals for him made him even more invigored to earn her favor.

It had been at Momoi’s behest that Riko be the one to run the proceedings for the ritual, and as he was inexperienced with pregnancy on the whole and didn’t have a wide range of connections to choose from at such short notice, he agreed without much contemplation.  

He’d met with her near the southern gates, Wakamatsu following resolutely behind him.

Despite being the second queen of her own kingdom, Riko hadn’t come with a huge entourage and had only brought a beta attendant and Momoi along on their white horses. Momoi, clearly besotted and respectful towards her, had promptly leapt off her horse to offer Riko her hand so she could disembark without hassle.

Ryou was silently amused by the franticness and giddiness that Momoi seemed to possess around her long-awaited mate.

Riko, he noticed, was very clearly a rabbit, what with her rich-brown hair-- very neatly cropped to her chin-- her big, round, brown eyes, and her rather meagre height. All of her characteristics screamed rabbit, down to the plain features and the simple garments, but her demeanor was anything but submissive. It wasn’t that she was actively trying to dominate the room—rather it was her no-nonsense attitude that commanded respect from those around her.

She’d enveloped him in a standard hug and greeting upon seeing him, but within a minute of knowing her, he knew she’d become another friend. It was true that she wasn’t as outgoing, flamboyant, or affectionate as Momoi, but she was most certainly as loving and inviting, and that made Ryou take to her easily. She’d inquired about his day and never came off protruding or apathetic, engaging him in effortless and straightforward conversation. It made him wonder what kind of environment she grew up in to have such grace with complete strangers, despite being exactly of the same species as him.

They continued their conversation towards the gardens where Kawahara and Fukuda had set out some tea for them at the placebo. Upon seeing her, the two servants immediately prostrated themselves and spoke in what he surmised would be the Seirin tongue.

Riko had been struck by the display but insisted they be at ease. Without much preamble, she gave Momoi a pointed stare. “Are they former soldiers of Seirin?” she inquired.

Momoi scratched the back of her head, tittering nervously. “Yes… Susa-san had brought them in from the frontiers on the Onita lands. Imayoshi-san put it into their heads that we were going to infiltrate Seirin.”

Riko snorted at this. She turned her attention to Kawahara and Fukuda again. “Is that the reason you both haven’t returned to your motherland?”

Kawahara was the first to speak. “They had already known of Seirin’s location. We simply didn’t want to bring any harm to our people by returning.”

Riko sighed. “You’re both green, aren’t you? There’s no way Touou would ever invade. Satsuki’s my mate, after all.” At this, Ryou had quirked his head.

“Are you originally from there, Riko-san?” Himuro asked.

“I’m Kiyoshi Teppei’s cousin. He’s Seirin’s king at the moment.”

From then on, everything seemed to click in place in Ryou’s head. It made him even more curious as to what kind of place Seirin truly was. It sounded like such a peaceful land, fostering all its people from the ground-up, no matter the genders. He could only hope to visit it one day.

After sending Kawahara and Fukuda back to the kitchens and posting Wakamatsu and Riko’s beta servant, who Ryou learned was named Tsuchida, at the lip of the placebo, conversation was moved from talks of Seirin to talks about Ryou’s pregnancy. Momoi had brought it up to Riko’s attention that the pregnancy may have been going on far longer than any of them had expected.

Riko nodded her head in contemplation, eyeing his stomach and stirring her sugar cubes into her tea. “I think you’re almost two months along, Sakurai-sama,” she noted.

Ryou had blinked at this. “I am?” he squeaked.

She hummed in agreement. “I’m surprised no symptoms began to show. That’s unusual. You did say that you were a late-bloomer, though, correct?”

“Yes. I just received my first bleeding at the beginning of last year, and my first heat a few months ago.”

“Then that would explain the abnormalities. Good thing Satsuki caught it in time.”

Ryou nodded, gazing down at his belly curiously. He could see its protrusion now, heaps more noticeable than he remembered it being before. Almost instinctively, he began rubbing circles on it. “Um… I don’t really know much about pregnancies or the rituals of Touou pertaining to that. How do they usually transpire?”

Riko took a remaining sip from her cup before setting it down and leaning back to cross her legs. “Well, there are typically three rituals, although technically the first two are conjoined. It basically celebrates your child’s being into this world for the first part, and then the second prophesizes what their genders will be, which is why you need someone skilled enough to track those faint scents.”

“Is that what you specialize in, Riko-san?” Himuro asked.

“Yes! It’s a hobby of mine. I usually get paid for it, but you don’t have to worry about that, Sakurai-sama. You’re a close friend of Satsuki’s, and any friend of hers is a friend of mine.”

Momoi squealed next to her. “Aww! You’re so sweet, Ai-chan. I’ve missed you!” Momoi made to embrace her but Riko immediately put a stop to it by pinching her cheek and steering her face away.

“Quit acting like a fool, Satsuki. We’re guests here!” she insisted.

Momoi harrumphed. “I’m not a guest here, though!”

“All the more reason to be a good host!” Riko hissed before nudging Momoi away from her person and smoothing her dress. “Anyway,” she smiled, “will you be the other omega mirroring my blessings for the ceremony, Himuro-san?”

“Yes. I was so glad to know that Ryou-sama trusted me enough to choose me,” he beamed.

“I’m glad. It’s very important that Sakurai-sama is surrounded by other omegas he trusts in order for me to properly trace the scents.”

Momoi gasped. “Wait! Does that mean I can’t be around for the ceremony?” she despaired.

Riko raised an eyebrow at her. “Yes? You should know this by now, Satsuki.”

“But! I thought this could be the one exception, considering I’m a person that Sakurai-kun trusts, too!”

“There’s no ifs, ands, or buts. We’re sticking to how the ritual is usually done.”

“But--,”

“No buts!”

Momoi groaned in frustration. “What if I just stay beyond the threshold? Besides, you know my scent better than anyone, so you could decipher mine out of everyone else’s, including the baby’s, instantly!”

Riko’s face immediately erupted in red. “I know I can, but this is for Sakurai-sama’s sake, not ours.”

Momoi turned her gaze to Ryou, who had been greatly amused by the banter. He coughed to hide the laughter bubbling behind his lips. “Um, yes. I’d be fine with Momoi-san being there,” he acquiesced. Momoi whooped in victory and Riko sighed, massaging at her temples.

“Alright, fine. But, you stay behind that threshold, you got it? And no distractions or interruptions!” she demanded.

Momoi saluted her. “You have my word!”

Riko sighed for the umpteenth time. “Back to what I was saying, though,” she began once more. “Considering how your child is to be born of two species of parents, your birthing might come earlier than expected. I would give it two more months at the most.”

Himuro raised an eyebrow. “That close? My child was born of two species of parents, and she was born within six months. Why is Ryou-sama’s so short?”

“You have a child, Himuro-san?” Ryou managed to squeak.

Himuro laughed at his astonishment. “Did I forget to mention that?”

Ryou nodded vigorously. “How old is she?”

“She’s about seven, now. You’ll have to meet her one day, your majesty. But, let’s hear what Riko-san has to say about your pregnancy. It’s very unusual for your labor to be taking place so soon.”

Riko nodded, a worried glint in her eyes. “Yes, I agree it’s unusual. But, if you did just recently have your first heat and your child was conceived then, then the child will mature in the womb at a much faster rate. Your body at that point hasn’t completely managed all the hormones in your body, so it affects the rate of fertility and pregnancy. It’s an estimate at the least, though.”

Ryou began rubbing circles atop his belly again, biting at his lip. “If… If the baby _does_ come early, will it be harmed?” He squeezed his hand into a fist, willing the terrible images away.

Riko reached across the table to grasp his hand, shaking her head. “It’s unusual, but babies born within those months, especially between two species, turn out fine. Besides, that’s what the ritual is for—we’re going to bless it to the point that you won’t have anything to fear.”

Ryou peered into her eyes, trying to pinpoint any sort of doubt or uncertainty. When he found nothing but complete assuredness, his shoulders began to relax. “I trust it, Riko-san.”

She nodded her head, giving him a smile. “Good. Do you have any other questions before we do the ceremony?”

“Just one more.”

She cocked her head at this.

“What’s the third ritual?”

Her eyes widened at the realization she’d forgotten to expound upon this. She waved her hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about the third ritual, Sakurai-sama. You should just focus on the other two and we’ll run the third one like a modern birth shower.”

“Birth shower?” he inquired.

“It’s when relatives and close friends send gifts and attend a potluck celebrating your child,” Himuro explained.

Ryou nodded in understanding.

“I think you’d much prefer that version, rather than the outdated one. It tends to be on the more barbaric side,” Momoi claimed.

“Why?” he asked.

Riko swallowed, adjusting the collars of her dress. “The Tououan tradition was one where close relatives and friends would come to see the omega eat a panther’s heart raw. It was a symbol of utmost power and strength for the newborn. It’s rumored that the child would be safe from all famine and disaster, protected by the Miracle God. Of course, these are just baseless rumors. You don’t actually have to do such things. It was just simply the tradition back then.”

When she saw that Ryou was still processing it, or possibly even contemplating it, she waved her hands dismissively in the air again. “Let’s just get you ready for the ceremony, alright?” She’d offered her hands to him, and with the slightest hesitation, he accepted it and slowly stood to his legs.

After gathering their bearings, Momoi had directed them to a sacred room overlooking the kingdom, in all its great buzz and splendor. The room was kept clean to showcase the painted tiles in soft peaches and blues, but it was plain to see that it hadn’t been used in what could be decades. Riko had instructed for Tsuchida to obtain a chair and for Wakamatsu to bring a glass bowl and pitcher.

She’d then prompted Ryou to take a seat once the chair was proffered and situated, facing outward towards the rolling landscape. The Sun’s glare wasn’t particularly spiteful at the time, and he watched as it slowly descended towards the horizon, slowly being consumed by the land, while Riko got everything ready for the ceremony.

She’d then shooed everyone else out, save for the three of them. Of course, Momoi had insisted on staying, so she remained at the partition, observing.

Now he was here, watching the last vestiges of the Sun claw at the sky, painting the tiled room in hues of magenta and orange. He flexed his fingers against the flowers in his hands, admiring the soft petals as Himuro and Riko poured the orchid water into the glass bowl on which his feet rested.

The heat of the water was soothing as it lapped at his skin, and Riko let him soak in it for a while.

“What are all of the flowers for, Riko-san?” Himuro asked, situating himself beside Ryou and sitting down to mirror her.

“They’re meant to cancel out all the scents but of the newborn’s. But, they have their origins and meanings, too,” she chirped. “The marigold is for the warmth of a rising sun, signifying birth and new life, while the primrose is a flower that blooms in the night, signifying youth and age. The paste is what grounds the flowers—their soil, perhaps. It’s all meant to symbolize the circle of life. The new to the old. The day to the night. The shadow of the light—like how the poem goes,” she elucidated.

Ryou blushed at how romantic the poem sounded. It reminded him of Aomine in all the ways that they seemed to complement each other.

If it weren’t for the flowers in his hands, he’d be covering his face right now.

He’d told Aomine about the pregnancy a few weeks prior. He hadn’t exactly known what to do or in what manner he should’ve conducted it, but he figured it was best to tell him when Aomine was in a good mood. So, he invited Aomine out to the kitchens after he’d gone on his rounds, the plate of cookies at the ready, and after Aomine had gotten himself sweet and settled, Ryou blurted it out: “I’m with child.”

Aomine had stopped mid-chew, crumbs dotting his mouth, but Ryou had been so scared of what he would say that he couldn’t even summon a hint of amusement from it.

Without one word, Aomine had gotten out of his seat to tread to where Ryou was across the counter, and then he encircled his waist, placing a chaste kiss on his forehead. Ryou blinked up at him.

“You’re not upset?”

Aomine raised an eyebrow. “Why the hell would I be?” he smirked. He resolutely lifted Ryou onto the counter, gingerly setting him down and kissing him under the jaw. “I’ve got my child growing inside you— _our_ kid. How could I not be anything but ecstatic?”

It must’ve been the intensity of the moment or the excess heat of the oven, but passion quickly overtook them on that counter and the reminder of their coupling in that kitchen burned his face asunder with embarrassment.

Momoi noted on it again with a gleam in her eye but didn’t comment on it. The moment didn’t seem to yield for it.

After the allotted time, Riko and Himuro began peppering the orchid water with some juniper. “Does Aomine-sama treat you well, Sakurai-sama?” Riko asked.

Ryou swallowed, wondering if his arousal from the recent memory was noticeable. “Yes. He gives me more strength than I knew I was ever capable of.”

“So, you get along?”

“Um, I would say so. He’s very kind to me,” he spoke fondly. “I don’t think I could’ve ever come across a better Alpha.”

Riko smiled. “That’s good.” She began spreading the juniper throughout the water, letting them settle, and one by one, she began picking the berries off of the stems, setting them aside on a white towel she laid out on the tile floor. “Just make sure you two don’t get too frisky—in fact, don’t get frisky at all. At this point, the baby could get harmed if you don’t put a cap on your… libidos.”

If Ryou could describe the dread and absolute, abject horror he felt in that moment, he could write a novel about it.

Riko laughed, wiping her hands clean with a cloth. “Don’t feel too embarrassed. It’s normal for alphas and omegas to couple more during pregnancy. A lot of hormones are in effect to protect the baby so it happens occasionally. You just have to be careful.”

Himuro patted him on the back, but that still didn’t seem to abate his embarrassment.

“Besides that, though, I have the gender of your baby. Would you like to know?”

Ryou nodded vigorously, and everyone in the room chuckled. _Anything to get away from the subject of… that._

Riko began picking off the flowers from his hands while Himuro consequently rubbed the paste away with a wash cloth. “Its first gender will be a boy,” she relayed. “But, I couldn’t quite catch the second gender. It might have been because Satsuki’s scent interfered with it, despite my trying to separate the scents. I’m sorry I couldn’t do more.”

Ryou shook his head, placing a hand on her shoulder. “No, Riko-san. Thank you so much for doing this for me. I couldn’t have asked for a better person to do it. Besides,” he smiled, placing a clean palm on his belly again. “No matter what its second gender is, I’m going to love him, anyway.”

Riko grinned, offering her hand to him once more. “Let’s get you cleaned up, your majesty.”

Himuro took to his other side, gingerly lifting him by the elbow as he hoisted himself back to his feet without tripping over the glass bowl. After they properly dried his feet to prevent his slipping and then putting his shoes back on, Riko began cleaning up the equipment, washing them all at a basin near the entryway.

Ryou squatted beside her, watching her leisurely. “Do you have any children, Riko-san?”

She shook her head. “Satsuki and I aren’t ready for it. Well, _she_ doesn’t think so, anyhow.”

“Oh, sorry! Maybe that was a personal question.”

“It’s alright!” she assured him, toweling the porcelain pitcher. “I agree with her to a certain extent. We’re both young and we want to grow into ourselves a bit more before we can provide for a child. How about you, Sakurai-sama? I guess it’s a bit too late to ask, but do you feel like you’re ready for a child?”

Ryou hummed to himself, wrapping his arms around his stomach and feeling warmth exude from it. He’d thought about this before after Momoi had brought the pregnancy to his attention, but the truth of the matter was that he was too shocked and excited to even think about it more than the surface level.

“All my life, I’ve been gearing up to house an Alpha’s child, but honestly, I wasn’t looking forward to it,” he began, standing back to his feet and then offering a hand to help carry some of the items. “I always figured that was all I was good for. But, then… Aomine-kun taught me that it’s really not about usefulness that makes a person great. It’s just about loving someone for how they are or _who_ they are.”

Riko placed a hand on his shoulder, worry etched in her eyes. “So you don’t think those horrid thoughts anymore, right?”

He smiled, shaking his head. “No. There’s no way. I love Aomine-kun very much, so when I found out I was going to have his child, I couldn’t even describe how happy I felt about it.”

It must’ve been the lovelorn look on his face or the way that he was so fondly embracing his child, but Riko pulled him into the circle of her arms, patting his hair and smoothing them down. “Truthfully, you’re still so young to be having a child, Sakurai-sama. But, I think you’ll make a wonderful parent.”

They talked some more after putting the room back to rights, Momoi trotting behind them, devoted as a dog, and Himuro at his side, tranquil as the river. He asked Himuro about how painful it would be and whether it’d be traumatizing and Himuro was all smiles and laughs, informing the both of them that yes, it would be painful, but a pain worth having, and that it wasn’t traumatizing enough to keep him from making more in the future.

All of this seemed to fly over Momoi’s head, but being of female gender herself, she seemed to understand a bit of the conversation. Ryou wondered if female alphas could even give birth, but he felt like it was way too personal of a question to ask in the middle of other company and something more appropriate to find in a biology book.

Just as the Sun was finally engulfed into the ground, Wakamatsu, who had been sent to retrieve some servants for a late luncheon, came back toting a letter.

“Sakurai-sama,” he huffed, proffering the piece of parchment. “The postmen claimed that you had a present sent in. It’s awaiting your signature.”

Ryou quirked his head to the side. He knew that news of his pregnancy was already widely known and that Momoi had made invites for the birth shower already, but he didn’t think he’d receive anything so soon. The shifty look in Wakamatsu’s eyes didn’t set his curiosity at ease, either.

“Who is it from?” he asked, a hint of anxiety in his tone.

As he suspected, Wakamatsu looked away, the hand holding his letter slowly drooping.

“It’s from your brother, your majesty.”

*

He didn’t hesitate.

Ryou hurried to the post office on foot with Riko and Himuro at his heels, begging him to slow down. But, all of their pleas fell on deaf ears.

He could have sworn on a thousand needles that he told Momoi not to invite Hanamiya over, so he knew she didn’t have a hand in this whatsoever. It could only mean that Hanamiya had heard it from an outside source—news did travel fast, no matter how long the distance between kingdoms, and his brother wasn’t keen on being behind the times or lacking in juicy gossip.

There was no way he was going to be pleased that Ryou had yet another thing to hide from him.

He burst into the post office, sending a few pieces of paraphernalia flying, but at the moment, that didn’t seem to set off any sort of apology from his gut.

The servants glanced up at him in stolid shock, halting in their sorting and then bowing when they saw their disrupter.

Ryou pulled the nearest servant to him. “Was there a package sent by Hanamiya Makoto of the Kirasaki Daichii kingdom?” he asked with a panicked franticness that he thought he stomped out a long time ago.

The servant nodded nervously, pointing to a package isolated from all the rest at the back of the room. A wooden fence, poorly constructed and most likely erected at short notice, was placed around it.

With trembling fingers, he released the servant from his clutches and walked closer to inspect the box. Himuro, Riko, and Momoi finally caught up to him, causing another slew of paper to fly everywhere, but his attention wasn’t on them.

On the side of the box, he could make out the familiar home address and Hanamiya’s name scrawled at the top. When he got even closer, a yellow note was tacked on the side with Hanamiya’s impeccable penmanship. It read:

“Hello, little brother. I was swept with immense pleasure to hear that you and Aomine Daiki are expecting. I hope that you will allow me the greatest honor of celebrating you on this momentous occasion. The days are long, but time seems to still run short. It is my wish that it runs even shorter so that I may see the brother I have not seen in months for the ceremony. The 15th of March, dear Ryou. Mind my present before then and await my presence just as much as I await yours.”

The note fluttered to the ground, the scrape of its edge almost grating on his ears. He felt his breath running short as he tried to process everything.

Hanamiya knew when he was going to have the third ritual and he wasn’t going to pass on it. He was going to march through those doors and announce his presence and he was going to take everything of Ryou that he thought was finally his.

He peered down at his round belly, scenarios running through his mind, and it made his whole body shake. Even when Momoi and Riko surrounded him in their embrace to try and calm him, he seemed to be in a standing paralysis that neither of them could break.

Himuro brought the note to the women’s attention, and Momoi immediately understood his despair without further reasoning. “I guess he was bound to find out. Now that he knows, it’d look terrible on our part to bar his entry. But if that’s what you want to do, then we’ll make it happen, Sakurai-kun.”

He shook his head, slowly brushing their hands away. “No… he’ll find a way around it… We have to let him in.”

Momoi looked as though she wanted to protest, but when she saw how serious he was, all the arguments died before they could be ushered out of her mouth.

“He won’t come in seeing what he expects out of me, though.” He clenched his hands into fists. Riko and Momoi looked at each other, questions in their eyes.

“What are you planning to do, Ryou-sama?” Himuro asked.

With a conviction he began channeling from the pit of his gut, either from his own reserved strength or the strength of his child pushing him to go on, Ryou stared the box down, slowly beginning to understand why the wooden fence was put around it in the first place.

He gently ushered his three companions away from the fence and asked a servant to fetch him a knife.

Now that he was listening intently enough, he could hear a hush of a hiss, a whisper of a slither. When the knife was finally brought to him, he didn’t hesitate to jab it into the box. The servant warned him to be careful due to the contents inside that they’d been hearing, but he already knew what his brother had sent him.

When he flipped the flaps of the box open, there it was.

There were three of them huddled and stacked on top of the other, their beady, red eyes trained on him, and their long, winding bodies glittering as their silver scales reflected back at him. The top of the bunch lunged at him but he closed the box before any of them could jump out.

“Bring me tape, right now!” he hollered, trying to subdue the box as the snakes inside began rattling around and shifting erratically to break free.

The servants were all too shocked from their pause at his sudden outburst, but Momoi was quick on her feet, getting both a stapler and black tape. Instantly, she was at his side, slapping slabs of tape on the box and then stapling the top before Ryou completely let go. The box toppled to the floor from the snakes’ rabid movements and it took a few more moments before they began to calm and the tension of the situation slowly ebbed away.

Momoi ran fretful fingers through her pink hair, breathing rapidly as she tried piecing everything together. Immediately, she hugged Ryou and did as Riko did earlier, smoothing his hair down and trying to calm him. “Are you okay, Sakurai-kun? Are you okay?” she continued asking.

He tried to nod as best as he could.

Before Ryou got angry, Riko did.

“Who the hell allowed this box to stay here? Bring me whoever’s in charge!” she ordered. A stout and elderly gentleman was brought to her, and despite her small stature, he cowered in on himself, sweat beading at his temples. “If your second king hadn’t caught that in time, those snakes could’ve killed him and who knows how many others! Rid of that box this instance and kill those demonic things before I do the same to you!”

Ryou clutched at his heart, his breath still ragged, but he had enough strength left in him to grab her hand and halt her shouting. “No,” he began, shaking his head. “No… I knew what was inside. Or at least… I had a feeling.”

Himuro’s brows furrowed. “Even so, Ryou-sama. If you hadn’t caught it in time, those snakes would have you dead in an instant. How could your brother send you such a thing?”

Ryou released a breath, trying to gather everything that seemed to fall apart within that moment. “Those were silver vipers. They’re only given for special occasions and only sold to the highest bidder due to their rarity. But, they’re also the most poisonous snakes that reside in Kirasaki Daichii. One bite will have you killed within a moment—from what I remember, at least.”

“Sakurai-kun, this could be enough reason to ban him from the ceremony!” Momoi brought to mind.

Ryou looked down at the ground, feeling the corners of his lips dip. “No… I wish it were enough. In Kirasaki Daichii culture, silver vipers are a sign of good fortune and stability. He’d just twist things and claim that… he was supporting me and my child. As the saying goes… venom cannot kill a snake,” he whispered, pain flashing at the back of his mind at the remembrance of those words being battered into his head by none other than Hanamiya.

“But… you’re not a snake, Sakurai-kun,” Momoi said, the forlornness in her voice summoning the conviction that had slowly pooled within him before.

“You’re right, Momoi-san. I’m a rabbit,” he agreed. “But, rabbits can be strong, too. Right, Riko-san?” He looked to her for assurance, and she nodded without further prodding.

“That’s why, when he comes and sees me on the third ritual, I’m going to eat a panther’s heart and show him how wrong he’s been about me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it sucked T_T But I have no more time left. This chapter was ALSO meant to be long, but it ended up here due to time constraints. I hope ya'll will forgive me.


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